SiS5v^^\<$^>'S:<^^gv<^^^'-yst^ 



^^-PRISON POETRY.t^-^ 



/r 



H^ pf Mcknight. 




V\C\Ol' 



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In leisure moments cast a look 
Upon the pages of this book ; 

AND IF YOUR thoughts THEY SHOULD ENGAGE, 

Just think of me who wrote this page. 
And if by chance, in your time of leisure, 
YOU, in these pages, should find pleasure. 
Then dart your mind up to this cell. 
For here I live in an earthly HELL 



Cj^y^yJU^ 0. ^ I *? «? (.4 



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■Tl 



DEDICATION. 



(;o forth, thou litlU- voUnnf. 

I leave thee to thy fate I 
To those who read thee I'aithfiilly 

Thv leaves I dedicate. 



But if your fate should be so sad 
As mine who thee have writ, 

I'd be so vexed to think that I 
Had made siich a ])oor " hit." 



But if by chance you meet a friend 
Along- life's road so dreary. 

Just cheer his mind till he is blind. 
And never make him wearv. 



Teach him the way, the livo-lon<r day. 

To lend a helping- hand. 
And never turn or even spurn 

Those wrecked on life's hard strand. 



If chance should be you return to me. 
Along- with harvest's g-olden, 

I'll vouch for thee to all who see, 
That thou wilt not embolden. 



And now <ro forth, thou little bool. 

I leave thee to thy fate ! 
To those who read thee faithfully 

Thv leaves I dedicate. 



PREFACE. 



In llie preparation of the verses that fill these pages I have 
been helped by some of the prisoners of this institution. The 
donors have been somewhat few, for which I return thanks; 
but each and every verse is a fair representation of the 
inan.v phases tliat the mind of a ijrisoner passes through, and of 
his true sentiment. Tliose that have been donated by my fellow 
prisoners are accredited to them by either their name or serial 
number. Some of the verses have been published in our prison 
"Niiws," but inasmuch as they have reached only an incon- 
siderable few outside the prison walls, I prepare this litttle 
volume and hand it to the wide, wide world. My motto, in so 
doing-, is: 

May you who enjoy the blessing's of libertj' and worldly free- 
dom, partake with us of our solitary musingrs, and enjoy our 
noblest thoug'hts and resolutions, as well as for us to enjoy 
yours; and that you may know that we are not devoid of true, 
manly, noble principle simply because we are cast — some justly, 
others uujustl.v — into prison. 

May we exchang-e g'reeting's with j'ou all — shake — and if by 
chance I have been fortunate enoug^h to interest you, I am well 
compensated; but if I have been more fortvinate, and g-iven j-ou — 
even one of .vou — a. line of noble, g^ood thoug'hts and advice — I 
say, " May the seed fall on g-ood g-round and bring- forth g-ood 
fruit; may it not be wasted upon barren rock." In my work on 
"Crime atid Criminals" many of these verses will appear in the 
"Appendix." Very truly yours, 

H. P. Mcknight, 

A. D. 1S%. O. P., Columbus, O., U. S. A. 



INTRODUCTION. 



True models of poetic art. 

Should please the ear and loncli the heart: 

Stamp on the plastic mind of youth 

Due reverence for Eternal Trutli. 

Paint field and flower in nature's hues. 

Give to the world the heart's best news. 

Or, lig-htly trippinsr o'er the pag-e, 

Rejuvenate the blood of ag^e. 

The sacred Muse should ne'er descend. 

Vice to guild, nor wound a friend. 

Heaven eave no man poetic art, 

Save to improve the human heart. 



You may not find, in coming- page. 
The ripened wisdom of the ag-e; 
Yet you zcill find, untrained by art. 
The deathless mu.sic of the heart; 
And truth shall caress each flaming- line. 
Inspired bj' The Tuneful Nine; 
No fear of man nor greed of praise 
Shall make or mar our tuneful lays; 
We simply voice the ripest thought 
Of prisoned souls with meaning frauglit. 
Yours it is to praise or blame 
Mv effort to deserve a name I 



CONTENTS. 



Acroslic lo Warden and Mrs. Coffin, 

Acrostic lo Chaplain and Mrs. Winget, 

Acrostic (Initial), 

Acrostic to Capt. J. C. Lang-enberg'er, - 

Acrostic to Dr. H. R. Parker, 

Aci"ostic to Harry Smith, - - - 

A tribute to Capt. Geo. W. Hess, 

A Letter Fnjni Home, ... 

A Memorial Ode, . . . 

A Prisoner's Thanksg-ivinisr, 

A Prisoner's Lamentation, - 

A Prayer For Justice, 

A Prison Vision, - - - - 

A Query, . - - - - 

A Sad Warning', - - - . 

An Appreciated Friend, 

Be Lenient to the Errant One, - 

Birthday Musitig-s, 

Coming' In and Going Out, 

Conclusion. - . . - 

Dreams, .... 

Ella Ree's Reveng'e, ... 

Erratic Musing's of Unfettered Thought 

Forget? No, Never! - 

Freedom, .... 

God Bless Them, 

Guilt's Queries and Truth's Replies, 

Hope, ..... 

Hope — Eternity, - - - - 

How To Be Happy In Prison, - 

In Prison,- . . . . 

Influence, .... 

Judge Not Lest Ye Be Judged, 

Kindness, .... 

Lines To My Cell, 

Lines To My Wife, 





PAdE. 


- By McKnight. 


'13- ')S 


" 


183-185 


. " 


](i7 


" Van Weighs 


148 


- " Harrison, 


1(.8 


" Van Weighs 


150 


- " " 


143 


" 24138, 


42 


- " Van Weighs 


110-111 


" McKnight 


20-21 


. " 


(i3-(i4 


" 


87 


" Harris<in 


'15-107 


- " Morse 


(.'1-70 


" Harrison 


14(1-147 


- " McKnight 


114-115 


"■ Harrison 


37 


- " Van Weighs 


; 88 


" Carr 


50-51 


- " McKnight 


l')4 




48 




171-178 


t, " Harrison 


25-3(, 


- " McKnight 


IX 



Harrison 


41-42 


Law 


3'i 


McKnight 


21 


22700 


2?> 


Harrison 


24 


Law 


3() 


Roth 


4(. 


McKnight 


111-112 


Harrison 


!(.'» 



CONTENTS. 



Love's Victim, - - - . 

Last Nig-lu In the Dunireoii, 

Midnitrlit Musinsrs, - - - 

Mother, . . - - - 

My Lawyer, - - - - 

My Mother. - - - - - 

My Prison (iarden. 

Our Board of Manajrers. - 

One and a Few,- - - - 

Out (if the Depths - - - - 

i'rison Pains, . . . - 

Prisoners, - - - - - 

Perfect Peace, - - - - 

Reflections. - - - - - 

Rhyme and Reason, ... 

Stray Thoughts, . - - - 

Salome's Reveng-e, 

She Loves Me Yet, - 

Soul Sculpture, - - - - 

The Storms of Life, 

The Prisoner Released, - - - 

The Convict's Prayer, 

The Great "O. P." - - - - 

Tlie Fall of Sodom, - 

" " '• Canto Second, 
There Is No Death, - 
Tlie Murderer's Dream, - - - 

The Prisoner's Mother. 
The Reformer, . - - - 

The Under Doff, 

The Phantom Boat, - - - 

To A Departed Idol, 
Tribute to Dr. G. A. Tharp, 
Tribute to the Wolfe Sisters, - 
Tribute to the Wolfe Sisters, 
Tribute to Capt. Joseph Smith Achesoi 
Tribute to Capt. L. H. Wells, 
The Mind's the Standard of the Man, 
The Author's Farewell. . - - 

Two Letters, . . - - 

Weig-hl and Immortality of Words, - 
Which Loved Her Best, 
Wine vs. Water. . - - - 

Would Thev Know. - 



Bv 



McKniffht 


58-63 




38-30 


'• 


oS-09 


Overstreet, 


10 


Gilbert 


144-145 


Carr 


100-1 111 


McKnig-ht 


11 


" 


65-00 


21069 


07-0M 


Harrison 


170 


" 


45 


McKnig-ht 


.S3 


McKnig-ht 


37 


" 


43-44 


" 


ll-lo 


" 


70-72 


" 


115-142 


Harrison 


140 


Doane 


51 


Law 


57 


Col. Parsons 44 


Harrison 


73 


McKnig-ht 


40 


" 


78-80 


" 


75-80 


" 


47 


" 


170-1.S2 


Mrs. Wiricli 


22 


Law 


43 


Barker 


45-40 


Harrison 


151-10'> 


Van Weig-hs 


1 01-02 


" 


113 


Harrison 


80-01 


McKnig-ht 


81-82 


Harrison 


108 


Van Weig-hs 60-07 


McKnight 


185-100 


" 


102-103 


Harrison 


84-86 


McKnight 


52-53 


" 


54-57 


" 


74-75 


Collier 


40 



FMIStK P®E1PS' 



PRELUDE. 



If you prefer the souiidiiiEf line, 
Go read some master of the Nine! 
Good taste perhaps you will display; 
Let others read my simple lay 
That g-ushes from an honest heart 
tJnawed hy fear, unstrained b3- art. 
I ne'er will prostitute my Muse 
The rich to praise, nor poor abuse; 
But siniplj- sing' as best I can 
Whate'er may bless m.v fellow man; 
I dare not stain a single page 
"With outbursts of unreasoning rage. 
But if one sorrow I can soothe 
Or one his rugged pathwa.v smooth; 
One pain relieve, one jo3- impart, 
'Twill ease the burden of a heart 
That has known for wear3- j-ears 
No solace save unbidden tears. 
Hard is the heart that will refuse 
Due merit to the Prison Muse. 
May heaven watch the prisoner's weal 
And mankind for his sorrow feel! 




PRISON POETRY. 
My PRISON GARDEN. 



In this mind's g-arden thoug-hts shall grow, 
And in their freshness bud and blow; 
Thoughts to which love has beauty lent 
And memories sweet of sentiment. 
Now, if I cultivate them right good, 
Thej-'ll furnish me with nij- mind's food. 
Mj- enemies may my corpus hail. 
While onward, upward, thoughts will sail 
To realms above, where all is peace. 
And where the soul mav rest with ease. 



RHYME AND REASON. 



In contravention of the laws of right, 
Man's cruel passion and his guiltj- might. 
Has bound me tightl.v with a galling chain 
Of heaped-up malice and unjust disdain! 
From front rank lawyer to a felon's cell, ^ 
Through perjured villians, not by sin I fell! 
Bj- fiat law my body was consigned 
To this grim cell for guiltj- ones designed. 
Yet I'm no convict— I have never known 
The deep remorse by guilty wretches shown! 
I am a martyr — doomed by adverse fate 
To brave the billows of malicious hate ! 
Yet I am free, for Nature's august plan 
Makes MIND not mailer constitute the MAN. 

Tho' men may curse me and cast out m.v name. 

Like some vile bauble on the sea of shame; 

Brand me as murderer or catiff thief. 

Or atheistic infidel — steepid in unbelief; 

Foe to all that's pure and good — wretch unfit to live; 

Outlaw whom no honest man can even pit.v give! 

Yet nij- soul will still def.v your prison bolts and bars. 



12 PRISON POETRY. 

And soaring- far on eafj-er wins^s beyond the faintest stars. 

Live in a world to you unknown, where only poet soul 

Can bask in beauty undefiled by cankering- control I 

In vain is all your hate and scorn — vain your prison blig-ht; 

God loves me, and I feel assured that all will yet be rig-htl 

I know one law — a perfect law, by Nature's self designed — 

'Tis Heaven's dearest gift to man— The Freedom of the Mind! 



If minds and hearts were easy read as faces we can see. 
Society would lose its dread and many a prisoner free! 
But what, alas! do people care what's in another's brain? 
They only seek to hide their share of misery and pain. 
Were all compelled to truthful be and show their inner life — 
Great heavens! what a jamboree of sin and shame and strife! 
How few would measure half a span if Mind alone we closely 

scan I 
Where is the man on this broad earth, so pure, so good, so true. 
That never gave an action birth he dared not bring to view? 
The Christ alone was sinless here, none other lives aright; 
All human goodness springs from fear of death's approaching 

nig-ht! 
There is no soul so white I know but what temptation's power 
Its purity can overthrow and all its good deflower! 

Disguise the truth as best we can, he errs the most who most 

is Man! 



Come, let us take a journey, with cathode rays supplied. 

And view the g-reatest and g-ood in all their pomp and pride! 

Examine first the churches, where the godlj' crew 

Teach poor erring mortals what is best to do. 

Thej- tell us human nature is once and always wrong. 

And prove man's deep depravity in sermon or hy song. 

All natural passion is denounced as deep and deadlj' sin. 

And truth and inrtue painted as graces hard to win. 

Heaven, they tell us, is a place with blisses running o'er; 

Hell, a lake of torture, where fiery billows roar! 

A choice eternal all must make between their birth and death: 

It maj' be made in early- life or with expiring breath! 

But how this choice must be made each gives a separate plan. 

That clearly proves how narrow is the erring mind of Man. 



PRISON POETRY. 



13 



One tells us naufrht but fT'^od pursue, all evil to eschew; 

Another swears without God's g-race no mortal thus can do; 

One bids us work salvation out with trembling' and with fear, 

Another swears that God's elect should never shed a tear; 

One says all must live the life Jesus lived on earth. 

Another says it can't be done without a Second Birth I 

Some say work, others trust, others stil say wait ; 

Some deem us mere automatons, saved or lost bj' Fate ! 

Some, with philanthropic views, declare all must be saved. 

Since Christ, the Perfect Offering' for all, death's horrors braved! 

Since Christians never will agree, 'tis best that every man 

Should listen to his conscience, and do the best he can ! 

God ever has and 7vi// do right! In His Eternal Plan 

The time will come to set aright the numerous wrongs of Man ! 

See yonder's pompous deacon, with diamonds clear and bright; 

He looks a model Christian — just turn on him your light. 

(ireat heavens! what a medley of cant and sin and shame! 

If the half we see was ever told 'twould ruin his good name! 

Hut turn on 3'onder pastor your strange, mj-sterious light; 

I know he is a real good man, who loves Eternal Right. 

Ye holy saints, protect us! he too has gone amiss! 

When Siren Voice allured him with a seductive kiss! 

If half the prayers we utter be not a sounding' lie. 

It is but little marvel that we are doomed to die! 

For each will plead forgiveness for thought or action done, 

And none by spotless merit eternal bliss hath won. 

Then gently judg'e j'our fellow, his failings lightly scan; 

Like you, he can not corner all the brains of man! 

See, yonder is our Congress, where wits and fools unite. 

To declare by the nation's statute what is fundamental right! 

They j-ell of patriotism and the majesty of Law, 

And are for once unanimous — their salaries to draw ! 

Alas! alas! 'tis ever thus within our halls of State; 

Sweet Justice is blacklisted — the dollar is too great. 

Aye, even on judicial bench, where justice should be done, 

How scattering are the cases where Right the victory won! 

Lawyers, judge and jur.v exparte view the case — 

An angel would be ruined in the defendant's place! 

In vain is protestation, in vain a blameless life; 

Some must be doomed to prison when prejudice is rife! 

Law must keep its servants in stations high and proud, 

Tho' every hour should furnish a coffin and a shroud ! 



14 



PRISON POETRY. 



The modern vShylock of toda.v, unlike his friend of old. 

Demands the pound of quivering- flesh and all his victim's g^old; 

Nor feels content until he sees his victim's hated face 

Behind a wall of rock and steel in garments of disgrace. 

Then he will raise his dainty hands and loud applaud the law 

That can protect such being-s, who live without a flaw. 

He has no pit^- for the weak, who thro' temptation fall, 

But f reel}- spends his time and means the guileless to enthrall. 

He heaps his mig-hty wrath and scorn on ever}' evil done. 

And speaks in tones of pure disg^ust of povertj-'s pale son. 

But if 30U bid him look within and study his own heart. 

He has a task herculean — 'tis such a liny part! 

And as for Mind — ye angels I in fair creation's plan 

'Twas given to his victim, and left him half a man! 

The modern Clytemnestra no dag-ger needs to use; 

She slaj-s her agememnon within your legal pews. 

Since judges now are willing to sunder marriage ties. 

And juries are so truculent when blushing beauty lies. 

Or if she be a Helen, and Paris suits her taste. 

She hastes without compunction to la.v her honor waste. 

" Society " allows her to have " a special friend," 

And a husband is so handy her good tiame to defend! 

But alas! Aspasia no mcTcy need expect; 

Her Pericles lionized, but none her worth detect! 

And as for poor Thargelia none will take hei part; 

She lives a social outcast, with broken, bleeding heart; 

But each base seducer, in our social plan. 

Makes poor, trusting woman bear the sins of Man ! 

Man}' men are now misjudged, and meet an awful fate. 

Whose innocence is published, but alas, it is too late! 

Many, too, are breathing freedom's precious air 

Whose vile conduct merits prison dress and fare. 

Only little rascals in your prisons die. 

While stupendous villians liberty can buy! 

Each one strives with fervor his neig^hbor to outshine. 

And he who has the most of gold is reckoned half divine. 

You scatter dark temptations around the poor man's path. 

And when he falls you pour on him a// your vicious wrath. 

Poverty in public lives all her deeds are seen; 

Wealth can build a castle her 7vickedness to screen. 

Yet many a noble woman and kingly man is found 

As toilers in your factories or tillers of the ground! 



PRISON POETRY. 15 

If cathode rays were freely used to bring- to human sig-ht 
The dirty methods villians use to dim'/i Eternal Riffht, 
Man}- men would be set free and others take their place 
Who now can roll in luxury and lauMTh at their disgrace. 
A judg-e and jur}- now can sit and hang a man at will, 
But the}- say 'tis open murder if but one dares kill! 
Take a ring- of brass and plate it o'er with g-old, 
And 'tis only business when the fraud is soldi 
Adulterate both food and drink, deal in deadly pills; 
Law will aid your robbery and collect your bills! 
Give to your profession but a sounding- name, 
Then cut up the devil without fear or shame. 
Be sure to call it business whatever you may do, 
And if you have sufficient gall \haX will pull you through. 

Now throughout this prison rays cathodal dart. 

And read the hidden secrets of each convict heart. 

Some have wrought vile deeds, and wrought them o'er and o'er, 

That surely proves them rotten to their inmost core. 

And here are wretched fiends, who with consumate art. 

Ravish every instinct of the human heart. 

Some men of wit and letters, cultured and refined. 

Others moral lepers, with heart and conscience blind. 

From drawing room and brothel, farm and city slum. 

Some by acts of justice, some through perjury come; 

The innocent and guilty, callow youth and age. 

All can be imprisoned in this Christian age! 

But they who seek for liberty no innocence must plead — 

Gold, and plenty of it, will be all they need. 

Some young souls are making, for a stated time, • 

This, their maiden effort, on the sea of crime. 

Oh, Christians, teach them early what to me is plain; 

Crime ever has and ever will result in lasting pain. 

Do not be too lenient, nor too soon forgive, 

Lest all vice should flourish and no virtue live. 

Society demands it, the guilty should atone — 

But take care you punish those, and those alone ! 

Keep them in your prisons till by virttie%\\ovin 

They will know what is and what is not their own. 

But let all be careful lest by word or act 

Those who should reform them from their good subtract. 

Rule them wisely, gently— by some humane plan. 

All their faults to conquer as best becomes a MAN. 



l6 PRISON POETRY. 

Wheti your work is finished and their habits chang-ed. 

Give them honest labor, by the State arrang-ed; 

Show them lionest labor can a living' gain. 

While the social outcast harvests 7vaut and shame ! 

Treat them fairl3-, kindly; teach them all the true 

Will be friendlj- with them while the right thej- do. 

Both principle and policy declare this course is wise; 

Then why long-er act the fool and wisdom's voice despise? 

Crime never can nor will decrease until in M-^isdom's School 

Men learn the noted lesson, "Right through Law should Rule. 

All tried plans are failures, this none dares deny; 

Now give Common Sense a show and failure dare defy. 

Do this, and lash and pistol, now your sole defense, 

Shall g-ive place to Reason and plain Common Sense! 

Courts are far too careless when the^- g'ive men life 

For offense unnoticed save in time of strife. 

Naught but some poor chicken or a ham he stole — 

Shall the devil purchase at such price a soul ? 

If such petty crimes as this deserve such prison fare. 

Come now, honest reader, what is yoitr just share? 

Was that old Greek right, who, tho' a man of sense. 

Could meet out death to all for each small offense? 

Applj- his heartless rule, and can you truly say 

Any man or woman would be left to slay ? 

Man is onl3' mortal, and to sin is prone: 

Never cure another's faults till you quit your own. 

Many are convicted bj- the press at large; 

The Public Mind is rarelj' Heaven's peculiar charge. 

Bring the judge and jury who declared nij- fate 
For the shining dollars furnished them b3' hate. 
And their guiltv conscience bj- my own arrang^e, 
And then tell me frankly if my fate should change! 
Yet I had sooner die behind these bars of steel 
Than to have a heart of stone that could not feel! . 
I know such human tigers, who fatten on distress, 
Never can and never will enjoj' one hour of rest! 
Until all hate and malice, all greed and other sin 
Is burned hy awful torture to leave them pure within! 
God 2c/ill forgive each penitent whate'er his sin maj- be, 
Whose heart is overflowing with love for bond and free. 
Oh listen! brothers, listen — 'tis Jehovah's plan— 
And a time is fixed to rig-ht the wrongs of Man. 



PRISON POETRY. 



17 



Freedom. 

How sweet thou art, O freedom, 

To every human heart — 
Man's privilegre most sacred. 

His being^'s noblest part. 
Thou priceless, g'reat possession. 

Without thee life were done! 
Its sun (jToiie down forever. 

For thou and life are one. 

How dear thou art, O freedom — 

Our birthrig'ht here belowl 
Chief blessinnr of all blessings 

Kind heaven doth bestow. 
Deprived by dark misfortune 

Of every other joj-, 
Naug-ht while thou still remainest 

Can happiness destroj'. 

But thou, O prison penance. 
Dark shadow bj- life's board! 

Of all that men hold mournful 
Thou art the fullest stored. 

There's naught on earth worth having- 
If 't must be shared with thee— 

O happy, holy freedom! 

O heaven, set me free. 




iS PRISON POETRY. 

GOD BLESS THEMI 



God bless the mothers of this land! 

They are so good and true; 
And all the sisters of their band. 

They are so noble, too. 
If we don't treat them with respect. 

And court their wholesome 'fluence. 
Our morals will not be correct. 

And we will suffer hence. 



If women are not treated with respect, and made to e.xercise 
an influence over the social world, the standard of jirivate virtue 
and public opinion will be lowered, and the morals of men will 

suffer. 



FORGET? No, NEVER! 



There are thinf^s we'll not remember. 

And much will be for^rot. 
As in the bleak December 

When our coffee was not hot; 
When the butter was much j'oung-er. 

When the bread was sour and dry; 
When are felt the pang's of hunger. 

With regrets and many a sigh. 
How the memorj' used to vex us 

As 'twould o'er our senses steal; 
How we wished they might "annex " us. 

So we'd get one good square meal. 
Other things may be forgot 

In this busy, hustling age, 
But one thing we ne'er can blot 

From off our memorj^'s page. 
That we never can forget 

In a hundred months of Junes; 
It will long our memories fret — 

T/iosr primes — those rotten, ■:voriiiy prunes. 



PRISON POETRY. 

MOTHER. 



19 



BY OVERSTREET. 



Who is it, in this life so drear. 
That pines for tlie wandering' boj', 

And ever ready with words of cheer 
To turn sad tlioughts to joy ? 
Mother. 

Who is it. when all others do forsake 

And leave us to our grief, 
That will for long- hours lie awake 

And pray for our relief ? 
Mother. 

Who is it, when the world laug-hs on 
And g-ives our sig-hs no thought. 

That thinks of the bo3' who looks upon 
This life that's come to naug-ht? 
Mother. 

Who is it, when from prison freed — 
The boy goes forth so sadlj* — 

That receives him in his hour of need 
With tears of joy — yea, gladlj- ? 
Mother. 

Who is it, when the end has come. 

Looks fondly on her child. 
And pra3-s to God for a happy home 

For the boj' that's been so wild ? 
Mother. 



><M^ 



PRISON POETRY. 
A PRISONER'S THANKSGIVING. 



What if the gold of the corn lands 

Is faded to somber grey ? 
And what if the down of the thistle 

Is ripened and scattered away ? 
There's a crowning golden harvest. 

There's turkey the heart to cheer, 
There's a basket from home with plenty of " pone, 

Tho' 'tis bathed in a mother's tear. 

What 'f our friends are far from us 

And they know not where we are ? 
What if those who are dearest 

Live ever awaj- so far? 
There's room for us bj- th' fireside. 

Where in childhood daj-s we'd plaj'; 
'Tis comfort to think, tho' we stand on the brink. 

That we will be there some day. 

What if our hearts are lonely 

As we toil in our enemj-'s hand ? 
What if our sad looks betraj' us 

As we take a true manly stand ? 
There's a coming golden harvest, 

There's a time when we all '11 meet. 
When prison locks and iron bars 

Will fail to ther pris'n'r keep. 

Wliat care we for the pang at heart? 

'Twill all be gone some day; 
And then tho' our enemies 'Id crush us. 
They'll be scattered far awaj-. 

Tho' this is a sad Thanksgiving, 
A better one's coming our wa.v. 

When we'll all be home to share in the '* pone " 
And hear our angeled sister pray. 

What if the gold of the corn lands 

Is faded to somber grej-? 
And what if the down of the thistle 

Is ripened and scattered away? 



PRISON POETRY. 21 

Away Ui the east in a far off land 

Tliere's turkey the heart to cheer, 
Where the dear ones are partakino- 

And thinkin}.'- of one that's here: 
There's father and mother and sister and brollier, all so far away 

Tliere's a blessed time a-comintr — 
The prisoner's Thankstrivinsr day. 



HOPE— Eternity. 



The heart bowed down with silent trrief. 

Despair its portals soon assails. 
Oh! let such moments be but brief 
'When spirit lost o'er man prevails; 
Think not of friend who, false, betra.ved, 

Nor sweetheart's changre, nor colder wife — 
Recall those oaths when passion prayed 

For vengeance and for foeman's life. 

We pass dear friends but once this way; 

Our judg'e, accusers and our foe. 
If false to God and man they play. 

Not thou, but they, shall suffer woe. 
All stay is short; the lontrest span 

Counts less than raindrops in the sea. 
Arouse thee, then, despairing- man, 

And hail with hope — Eternit_vl 

Glows in thy cell a frag-rant bloom. 

Plucked from thy guardian angel's wreath. 
Do thou but nurture it with pra_ver 

And water it with tears of faith. 
To humble hearts its petals ope. 

Revealing bliss to streaming eye — 
Immortal blooms this rose of hope, 

God's flower of life— Eternity. 



/ 



^*,* 



PRISON POETRY. 

THE Prisoner's mother. 



BY MKS. S. E. WIRICK. 



To be a prisoner's mother 

Is to feel a piercing- dart 
That sets the mind a-whirling- 

And almost cleaves the heart. 

To be a prisoner's mother 

Is, upon a holiday, 
To visit him in prison. 

Then part and g-o away. 

To be a prisoner's mother 
'Tis, inside the lonely wall. 

To saj', "Farewell, mj- darling-"— 
Oh, I almost faint and fall. 

No resting place but heaven. 
No happj- morn that dawns; 

Our home so drear and lonely 
Because our boy is gone. 

An empty bed, a missing plate, 
A grief that inward burns; 

No balm on earth to heal our hearts 
Until our boy returns. 

■ Honor and shame from no condition rise; 
Act well your part, there all the honor lies. 




PRISON POETRY. 23 

HOW TO BE HAPPY iN Prison. 



BY NO. 22700. 



Do what is rijrht, and day by day 
Teach jourself that work is play 
Of brain and muscle, rig'htly used — 
And hurtful only when abused; 
Deep interest take in all you do; 
"Twill others please, as well as you. 

Relieve a fellow prisoner's need ; 

Rig-hteous counsel alwaj-s heed ; 

Be not suspicious or unjust — 

Few men betray a perfect trust; 

He trusts the most whose heart is pure, 

And g-enerous thought will malice cure. 

Brood not o'er the ills of life; 
Give no cause for needless strife; 
Tomb the past with all its sin; 
Purify j-ourself within; 
Rear j-our standard, be a man, 
And do whatever good you can. 

Some, perhaps, will misconstrue 
All you saj- and all j'ou do, 
But when conscience is at rest 
Happiness will fill the breast — 
"Twill be a sweet red-letter day 
When we all shall act that waj-. 




24 



PRISON POETRY 



IN Prison. 



BY HAKKISON. 



That which the world niiscals a jail 

A private closet is to me; 
Whilst a g-ood conscience is my bail. 

And innocence my liberty: 
Locks, bars and solitude tog-ether met 
Make me no prisoner, but an anchoret. 

I, whilst I wisht to be retired, 
Into this private room was turned. 

As if their wisdoms had conspired 
The salamander should be burned; 

Or, like those sophists that would drown a 1ish. 

I am constrained to suffer what I wish. 

These manacles upon my arm 

I as my mistress' favors wear; 
And for to keep my ankles warm 

I have some iron shackles there: 
These walls are but my g-arrison; this cell, 
Which men call jail, doth prove my citadel. 

I'm in the cabinet lockt up. 
Like some high-prized margarite. 

Or, like the Great Mogul or Pope, 
Am cloistered up from public sight: 

Retiredness is a piece of majesty. 

And thus, proud Sultan, I'm as great as thee. 




PRISON POETRY. 25 

ERRATIC MUSINGS OF UNFETTERED THOUGHT 



tBY GEO. W. H. HAKKISON. 



Is livinjjr thoufrlit, proud condor of the mind. 

By walls of rock and iron bars confined, 

Innate divinitj- by human courts enslaved. 

And rig'ht eternal by a dnst-worm braved '.' 

Think you the spirit's rapid flig-bt to mar 

With dung'eon torture and by iron bar? 

Can rock-ribbed walls and bars of steel 

Deprive man of the power to feel? 

Can .you the stream of Lethe roll 

In maddening' torrents o'er the soul. 

Pluck from my brow love's g-arland fair 

And brand me "Victim of despair?" 

No! weakling- son of veng-eful fate. 

God g-rants to none a power so great. 

M.v body is 3-our lawful prey. 

Poor lump of spirit-crumbling clay; 

SeiEe, chain and manacle each part. 

Aye. even starve m.v bleeding heart. 

But know that for Creative Thoug-ht 

All fetters by one's self is wrought. 

Mind, glorious Mind— Jehovah's sleepless breath. 

Can know no bondage and can feel no death. 

In 3-on fair regions of unreached repose 

Eternal Beauty's flower-chalice glows. 

Filled to the brim with satisfj'ing wine. 

Ambrosial nectar of the Tuneful Nine. 

My muse can reach it on external wings 

And drink till all the heart within me sings! 

I scale the lofty heights, b3' virtue shown. 

And from Eternal Wisdom seek my own. 

There, far above the struggling world of fate, 

I greet true freedom and am wisel.v great. 

'Tis mine in bright el3-sian fields to roam. 

Pluck jeweled treasure from the sleeping gnome; 

Bid ocean deeps their mysteries reveal, 

Or, soaring far above the world of space. 

Gain raptured visions of the Holy Place; 

Admire and measure everv glittering throne. 



26 PRISON POETRY. 

Cdunt heavenly treasure as my own. 

Make aug'ust ang-els bow beneath my rod. 

And even dare to mould the mind of God; 

O radiant fields of pure, untrammeled Thoug'ht, 

With what sweet incense are thj- zephyrs fraufrht; 

How clear the view, from thy exalted heig'ht. 

Of human errors and unerring- rig^ht; 

'Tis thou alone my laboring- Muse can teach 

The perfect measure of her powers to reach; 

She cons these fragments of a Truth sublime. 

And art stands ready with appropriate rhyme 

To trim each sentence and each word to place 

In melting numbers of seductive grace; 

Since first Jehovah, bending low to earth. 

Breathed in man's nostrils an eternal birth. 

The rain drop falling, from the heavy cloud, 

In waiting dust, finds ready shroud, 

And there commingling fills each separate cell. 

Yet still remains as pure as when it fell: 

To man appearing but a dampened clod, 

"Tis chambered favor of a gracious God; 

And serves his purpose till He calls above 

This liquid semblance of Immortal Love, 

There not to perish, but return again 

To deck the forest and adorn the plain; 

All nature feels its fructifying power 

In laughing streamlets and in nodding fiowcr; 

The rain drop typifies the Pure Indwelling (iod, 

That permeates our being, to animate a clod; 

Give birth to all emotion, consistent with His plan, 

And with unmeasured tenderness weep the fall of man. 

From every nodding flower, from every whispering breeze 

From mountain's lofty height, from towering trees, 

From softl3- twinkling star, from lightning's giddy flash, 

From the softest twitter of a bird and thunder's awful crash. 

From hills the ants may call their own. 

From crested elders 'round their throne, 

From babbling brook, from storm-lashed wave, 

From nature smiling, nature grave, 

From earth and air, from sky and sea. 

There comes the self same voice to me. 

Like softest note of cooing dove, 

And sweetly whispers, " God is Love." 



PRISON POETKY 



27 



All nature is obetiieiit to heaven's auyust plan. 

And none will dare rebellion, save ever-erriiiy man. 

He, of a dual nature — purity and lust — 

Defies his Great Creator and thus betrays his trust. 

Thrones within his being- the h.vdra-Tieaded sin. 

All his joy to murder and create heil withiu ; 

Self-conscienceness completes the triple blow 

While memories of happier years augments his hapless woe. 

Whatever then of pleasure his wounded spirit knows 

From the fountain of bitter repenteiice it onward, onwaid tlows. 

His own environment, be it either fair or fell. 

Must )tuu' embower his heaven, or will create his hell. 

Contentment, peace, or pleasure he must create anew 

By sowing- seeds of virtue where vice so lately grew. 

He learns he must not do whatever man can do. 

But recognize the limits of the just and true. 

Law is his Alma mater, the measure of his right. 

The barrier Jehovah set to curb irreverent flight: 

He h:is the truest liberty who recognizes law; 

"Tis made to shield his virtues and on his vices war: 

He who denies humanity lives for himself alone 

All history to hush, all culture to disown; 

And quickly he relapses into a barbarous state. 

Where only force and prowess can make the unit great. 

None so lost to virtue, none so devoid of art. 

As he who fails to capture the empire of a heart ; 

He who knows not sympathj- feels no fellow's woe. 

Will never feel the rapture of happiness below; 

(lod planted seeds of pitv in every human breast. 

And he who loses most of woe secures most of rest; 

Love is man's all, his conqueror, his cordial and wine. 

The measure of his inner life that stamps him as divine. 

How circumscribed the circle God allots to man. 

His home is but an acre, his life is but a span; 

And yet within that circle his influence is so great 

He wakes the cooing notes of love or feeds the fires of h.ite: 

His influence is potential within a circle small. 

But beyond the limit of the same he does no good at all; 

All thought, all power with which our being teems, 

Is action predicated on events or on dreams. 

All we have seen or heard, all we now can feel. 

Leaves an imprint on the heart that the future must reveal; 

The vain are truly lonely, thej- long to be admired. 



28 PRISON POETRY. 

One wishes to be understood, another well attired, 

This hushed by useless long'ing-s or fashion's chang-injr art. 

That sweetest of all poems, the music of the heart. 

But he who solves life's mj'ster3' is never quite alone. 

All ag-es is his playground and solitude his throne; 

He walks in subtle converse with all the mighty dead, 

(fathering jjriceless jewels their wit or wisdom bred. 

The watchtowers of his thought o'erlooks the struggling mass. 

While events both past and present before his vision pass. 

He sees the weary captive tugging at his chain; 

The weather-beaten sailor plough the raging main; 

The swarthy burden bearer in forest, mine and field; 

The merchant's soiled ledgers, the soldier's brazen shield; 

The child with glittering toy, the maiden at her glass; 

The ruler of an empire, the leader of the mass; 

The student in his stud3', the priest on bended knee; 

The teacher with his ferrule, the aged human tree. 

All fondly dream of freedom, yet all beneath the ban. 

Each in a separate prison presided o'er by man : 

Sees nature and morality are ever waging war. 

The first as god of freedom, the latter lord of law. 

Sees culture raise her barriers between polite and rude. 

And hears Religion thunder, "Cover up the nude '." 

Knows man in everj- station to be a willing- slave. 

The football of his passion, the dupe of everj* knave. 

Yet hears him boast his freedom, laud his reasoning power; 

Rule all he can with iron hand, and finite judgment shower; 

Sees all the devious, hidden paths bj- sinful mortals trod 

Where human law and custom dare ostracise a god; 

Yet knows a germ of goodness, deep in the human breast, 

Is living in the worst of men however much depressed. 

Knows life is but the unit of God's Eternal Plan, 

And learns to pity, not to blame, poor ever-erring man I 

In each created atom sees faultless beauty glow 

And God's Eternal purpose in onward sequence flow. 

Views all souls as living harps, whose seeming dissonance 

Is but apparent and not real; and believes, perchance, 

God will mend each shattered chord, tune the quivering lyre, 

And from out each soul shall bring a music sweeter, higher 

Than earthly ears have ever heard or earthly lips essayed; 

Such music as the ransomed sing in innocence arrayed; 

While all the universe entranced shall wondering incjuire: 

" Is this the fruitage of His woe ? Is this his soul's desire ? 



PRISON POETRY. 29 

Is this the harp so late unstrung? Is this poor fallen man? 
All I can it be that all was wrought obedient to God's plan ? 

Nature will o'er matter bear imperial sway, 

And all not immortal must in time decay; 

Man's tenement is mortal, but himself divine; 

Which should he most cherish, the jewel or its shrine? 

Yet when vice allures him with seductive raj', 

Gives he not to passion undisputed sway ? 

Dreams he not of beautj^ who, with open arms. 

Calls for lust to enter and revel 'mid her charms? 

Is his eye not captive? Do not his senses thrill? 

What is left the tempted one save his feeble will? 

If that will prove recreant to Jehovah's trust, 

Pays he not the penalty in self-consuming lust? 

Must his spirit suffer through unending j-ears 

For the shame he purchased with agonizing tears? 

Life is but a shoe-broom. Nature is God's book 

And he's the aptest scholar who all her laws can brook ! 

If love of right was constant man could well defj- 

All of sin's allurements and unspotted diel 

One such man has lived who, with a faith sublime. 

Crucified the temple where he dwelt in time. 

And entered heaven victorious without the aid of grace, 

The marvel of all centuries, the Savior of the race; 

But had His will but weakened, Jesus, too, had fell. 

And man without Redemption sank tottering into hell; 

All would be good did not true goodness claim 

Such earnest noble effort from a will so tame; 

Crime is but a sequence of misguided will 

Inherent moral defect and surrounding ill. 

Man's innate love of beauty and his dread of pain. 

His ever raging thirst for power and his greed for gain 

Alternatelj- do swaj- him with resistless power, 

The spotless blossoms of the soul, until he only j-earns 

For the ever hideous lust that blackens as it burns. 

Guilt comes not, thundering on the wings of time. 

With vice-distorted feature and the leer of crime. 

But like enchanting vision from a pagan dream. 

Or softlj- echoed cadence of a whispering stream, 

She steals upon us gently, with ever-changing art. 

And usurps an empire^the waiting human heart I 

Her outward form is beauty, her voice with Passion tense. 



30 



PRISON POETRY, 



She only craves the privileg'c to gTatif3- each sense; 

All apparent pleasures 'round her path are spread. 

But, alas! j'ou seize the flower to find its frag'rance fled: 

But still pursuing, row with bated breath. 

You clasp her to your bosom and— embrace a death I 

Then, conscience stricken, you the wreck survey, 

And with shuddering- borrow— humbly kneel to pray; 

While the pitjing angels on their pinions bear 

The ever sacred burden of repentant prayer, 

And almighty love descending reasserts control, 

And mercy in the guise of grace has won a human soul ; 

But contrast a moment, with this heavenly plan. 

The awful brutal conduct of exacting Man. 

See j'on martial champion riding on the flood 

Of a frightful carnage and a sea of blood; 

His path is strewn with many a ghastly sight, 

Dead and dismembered bodies and defenseless fright! 

Yet all the people with a loud acclaim 

Pronounce hhii " Hero" and accord him Fame! 

True, he butchers thousands in a cruel war. 

Yet j-ou deem him guiltless, he obej-ed youi- law. 

But if your angered brother slay a single man, 

Hhit you brand a "Murderer," worthy of your ban; 

And with zeal unbounded you wage relentless war 

Until he falls, a victim to rage-created law. 

As if a useless murder ei-, sanctioned bj' the state. 

Was less the fruitage of revenge than one new-born of halo; 

Perchance in some fair aiden, some far distant sphere 

Your poor hapless victim these just words may hear: 

"Thou art now forgiven, poor misguided son! 

" Tho' tranced with dire passion thou hast slain but one. 

"Thou hast made atonement, breathed a fiery breath 

" Of a deep repentance and an awful death ! 

" Place on him the raiment — whiter far than snow, 

" And teach his untried lips to sing the song the angels know 

" But as to yonder soldier who for the bauble fame 

"Led unbattled thousands without fear or shame; 

" And with banners flying to the bugle's chime 

" Hurled obedient legions into conscious crime — 

" All the tears he showed, all the blood he shed, 

"Now in molten fire shall circle 'round his head, 

" And all shall learn the lesson, that horror-breeding war 

" Will never meet the sanction of Jehovah's law!'" 



PRISON POICTRY. 

Tliis is no fancy picture, ni)r idle dream of youth, 
Hut, if I K-now the laws of (iod, it is the solemn truth. 

Behold a homeless wanderer, poor and thinly clad, 

To bitiniar cold a victim, with hung'er almost mad. 

Entering- yonder mansion, dares to boldly steal 

What none should e'er den3' a dog- — the pittance of a meal! 

See the greedy sleuth-hounds of the outraged law 

Wage against this robber an unrelenting war; 

While Christian judge and jury, with ready wit, declare 

His crime an awful outrage, that merits prison fare! 

But he who rears his costlj- domes 

O'er wreck and ruin of human homes, 

Plants in the breast a raging thirst 

And leaves his victims doubly cursed. 

Can roll in luxury, loll in pride 

And, with the law, his gain divide! 

Tho" every dime he pays the state 

A thousand cost in wakened hate! 

A simple youth by passion lured. 

And of but little wisdom steward, 

Meets with a maid of witching grace 

And dalliance ends in dire disgrace! 

In prison stripes you teach the fool 

That he must love by human rule! 

Yet j'ou rear great, costly piles 

Where soiled doves may ply their wiles 

And lead to an unhallowed bed 

The lustful brute you lately wed. 

If passion will assert her power 

None shall dare a maid deflower 

Unless so licensed by the state 

In wedlock's bonds his lust to sate! 

And, if marriage prove a bane. 

Divorce, for cash, will ease his pain! 

Then to 3'our haunts of sin he hies 

And laws of God and man defies 

By casting, in a barren sea, 

The germ of life that is to be ! 

'Tis true this evil you decry — 

And raise your taxes mountain high! 

As if the more the state shall gain 



31 



32 



PRISON POETRY 



The less will virtue feel the strain 1— 
You leg-alize divorce and fraud. 
And each successful scoundrel laud. 
Unmindful tho' he g-ain his wealth 
Bj- open plunder or bj- stealth. 
In vain his hapless victims cry. 
His gold can legral silence buj- ! 
Bttt if throug'h stress of penury's strife 
One makes a shipwreck of his life. 
You prisons build and place within 
This fruitag-e of a law-made sin. 
To ling-er till the cowering- slave 
Shall fill — unwept — a pauper's {rrave. 
And scarce a line of obscure print 
At this dark tragedy will hint; 
But if j-our millioned pupp3- dies 
What wailings rend the astonished skies I 
What sabled hue and lengthened train 
Attest your deep regret and pain! 
How j'on cathedral's vaulted arcli 
Will echo with his funeral march; 
What flowers will deck his costly tomb: 
What tapers rob the grave of gloom: 
Wliile columns, naj-, whole papers tell 
How great a man to-day has fell. 
Deluded mortals! raise j'our eyes 
To 3'on fair regions of the skies, 
Where justice sits, each cause to try 
Beneath Omniscience's searching e3'e; 
Your " convict" on low bended knee, 
Pleads "guilty" — and they set him free; 
And angels crown, with loud acclaim, 
Tlie man j-ou deemed a living- shame! 
Your Crcesus, with uplifted eye, 
(Still conscious of his station high) 
Deig-ns to repeat, with g-rowing stress. 
How from defeat he wrung- success; 
Tells, with a proudl3' swelling- heart. 
Of millions spent on sculptured art; 
And millions more on lordU- hall. 
The eve and heart of man to thrall; 
Tells how a church and college new 
From his donation quicklv grew; 



PK1S(»N i'oETKY, 

7"t'lls liDW — in cu-iliioned pi-w lie Uiiell 
And befTfr^d God otlier hecirts to melt. 
Until each child of man should be. 
Like his dear self, from error free; 
All this they hear your idol tell — 
And cast him headlong- into hell I 
While heaven bows her head with awe 
111 sanction of Jehovah's law. 



What inifrhty solons fill your halls of state! 
I'oor gibberinitr parrots with an empty pate), 
Wlio deem all prisons of but little use 
Xot founded on starvation and abuse. 
Tliev lock poor pris'ners in a loathsome cell. 
While lash and pistol drives them on to hell; 
They crush his manhood and his soul debase. 
Blot out ambition and his name disgrace. 
Yet wonder arreatly that such humane plan 
Makes not an angel of each convict man. 
These truthful samples of your legal page 
Condemn your judgment and disgrace your age — 
Too oft repeated, who will dare to say 
To what dark horrors they may pave the way '.' 
Cause I ere the records that now strew .vour path 
Invite the vengeance of Jehovah's wrath; 
Kelearn the lesson early taught mankind, 
■• To God give reverence and to man be kind." 
He this your motto, and each setting sun 
Will kiss the feature of a work begun: 
Time cannot tarnish and no heart can blame 
Your noble effort to deserve a name; 
Heaven will applaud you, and the smile 
f)f happiness the hours beguile. 
Why pay such homage to mere human laws? 
Dread you man's censure or admire applause? 
Are you forgetful that the crown of fame 
Is purchased torture and expiring shame? 
Think you man's plaudits or his causeless hate 
Can either ope or close the pearly gate ? 
Who ever placed in man implicit trust. 
Nor saw his idol, soon or late, in dust? 
Why thus pursue an ever fading wraith ? 
'T is (iod, and God alone, deserves your faith. 



33 



PRISON POETRY. 

Survey all thiiifrs willi comprehensive view. 
Admire all beaut}' and enthrone the true; 
Know every mortal, tlio' a separate soul. 
Is but a fragment of the migrhty whole 
That fills a niche in God's eternal plan. 
All for the welfare of ung'rateful man; 
Learn that in many a loathsome cell 
A prisoned larenius or a saint may dwell, 
Whose power, developed by an act of love. 
May lead a million to the Courts above. 
Shall it be yours to touch that vibrant chord 
And share the honor of the great reward? 
What heaven endorses that alone can stand; 
All else is stubble, built on shifting sand, 
That shall vanish 'mid the fire and flood 
Like tiny snowflakes in a sea of blood. 
Oh, could m_v Muse, b}' some exalted flight. 
Portray her knowledge of Eternal Right — 
Breathe in soft accents to the listening ear 
The melting music which my soul can hear. 
Some would declare my reason half dethroned 
Before my fancy to such heights had flown; 
Yet could such see as I have seen the scroll 
Where God has written " Destiny of Soul,"' 
They much would wonder how my Muse 
Could dare suppress such glorious news. 
What pen can picture or what brush can paint 
The endless rapture of a raptured saint? 
Words are too feeble; they but tell in part 
The truthful language of a human heart; 
But, Oh, when spirit from its cumbering clay 
Shall rise triumphant to the realms of daj-. 
What strains seraphic from our lips shall break 
Till all creation shall to bliss awake I 
O bliss supernal! when our lips shall meet — 
The lips long buried — and our souls shall greet 
The loved and cherished of those earlier years. 
Ere pain had turned each quivering chord to tears. 
And life was smiling in her morning hours 
And love was conscious of her magic powers. 
Oh, sweet reunion on the crystal strand ! 
When we shall fondlj' clasp the waiting hand 
Of buried jewels distance hides from view. 



PRISON POETRY. 

And all the plig-hted vows of lifo iviiew. 
TluMi shall we learn the truthfulness nf lovf. 
When hearts like ours, renewed in voutli, above 
All passion and the cloyin;'' cares of earth 
Shall wake to rapture with a Second liirlh: 

() hearts estrang-ed, forsrive and be forfri ven 1 
Your cruel coldness has already driven 
The angel sweetness from your speakintr eye. 
And suffered everything-, save pride, to die. 

cradle, in the lap of everlasting- sleej} 

The dark, fierce passions that now rudelj- sweep 
The sounding- chambers of the suffering- soul. 
Where Hate's tumultuous torrents hourly roll. 
And blacken what was once so white and fair. 
When spotless Innocence was centered there I 
Oh, keep no kisses for my cold, dead brow — 

1 am so lonely — let me feel them now. 

When dreamless sleep is mine I never more can need 

The tenderness for which tonight I plead; 

My wayw^orn spirit and iny thorn-pierced feet 

The piteous pleadings of my lips repeat. 

Oh, shall 1 plead and plead with you in vain 

To bring love's sunlight to my soul again ? 

Shall acts repented, bred of tindue haste, 

Lay all my stock of future pleasures \*-aste? 

Bid me to draw a servile, galling chain. 

Nor wish to murmur, nor murmur to covni)1ain V 

Will 3-ou deprive my hungry so'ul of love. 

Nor leave one spark of happiness above ? 

Oh. what base deed has these my fingers wrought 

To wake a malice with each vengeance fraught? 

If I have sinned and disobeyed your laws. 

Discarded fashion and despised applause. 

Have I tiot suffered all a man can know, 

And drank the bitterest dregs of human woe? 

Think you my proud and haught3- soul to cower 

With scorpion lashes of tempestuous power? 

do scourge the ocean with puny lash. 

Or raze a mountain with a feather's crash I 

Why thus torment my swift declining age 

With useless torture of unreasoning rage? 

'T were best to sound the caverns of niv soul 



PRISON POETRY. 

And learn the being' whom 3-ou dare control I 
'T will teach you wisdom in a siniarle hour 
And rob your malice of its wasting- power! 
For heaven has writ upon each poet soul 
"Dkal cicnti.v with him and his all coxtkol. 



INFLUENCE. 

liY SAM LAW. 

When e'er a noble deed is wroug^lit, 
When e'er is spoke a noble thougrht. 

Our hearts, in g-lad surprise, 

To hifirher levels rise. 

The sleeping- purpose wakes in us. 

Arousing- power or g-enius. 

And from their exercise 
Is born good enterprise. 

Honor to those whose words or deed^ 
Thus help us in our prison needs, 
And by their overflow 
Raise us from what is low. 




PRISON POETRY. 37 

PERFECT Peace. 



" Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace." — Isaiah xxvi, 3.] 

Peace, perfect peace, in this dark world of sin, 
The V>!ood of Jesus whispers peace within; 
Peace, perfect peace, for loved ones far away; 
In Jesus' keepings we are safe and thej-. 
Peace, perfect peace, with sorrows surg'ingr "round, 
On Jesus' bosom naugrht but calm is found; 
Peace, perfect peace, our future all unknown; 
Jesus we know, and He is on the throne. 
Peace, perfect peace, death shadowing" us and ours; 
Jesus has vanquished death and all its powers. 
It is euoug-h, earth's strug'g'les soon shall cease, 
And Jesus calls to Heaven's own perfect peace. 



BE LENIENT TO THE ERRANT ONE. 



BY GEO. W. H. HARRISON. 



Like phantoms wierd of troubled dream, 
In they come — a ceaseless stream — 
The callow youth, the agred sire. 
To reap the fruit of Satan's hire. 

With pallid brow and rueful face 
They view their g'arments of disgrace, 
And oft in eyes unused to weep 
Unbidden tears will slowly creep. 

Be lenient with the blighted crowd; 
Some come, perhaps, to g'reet a shroud; 
Some, perhaps, will go outside 
And 3-et become a nation's pride. 

If by kindness you reclaim 
A single soul from crime and shame, 
God will reward the noble deed 
And aid you in the hour of need. 



PRISON pop:tky 



Last Night in the Dungeon. 



The darkness of hades and a vile, deathly smell 
Is all that I feel stealing' over my senses. 

As linji'ering' alone in this cold duntreon cell. 
Shut away from the world, where hearts' blood condenses 
I feel 't is too much for slight, trivial offenses. 

Shut away from the dear ones, the loved ones on earlli. 
I suffer the tortures that no man can tell 

Till he 's taken away from fireside and hearth 
And sees the sad visions of a dungreon cell — 
Then he feels that vile man can create a real hell. 

As I sit here alone, my head throbbing' and achinsj. 

And listen to hear if the keeper is near. 
My thoug'hts they roam back to little ones takinjr 

Caresses so sweet from a mother so dear — 

Then I 'm prompted to ask, "Do they think of me here?" 

But when in mv heart I feel a sliffht flutter, 
I know there is syttipathy somewhere about; 

I then to myself do silently mutter, 

"They have love for me still, and there is no doubt:" 
Aye, love for me still, and this I "ve found out. 

Then, down on the damp and cold stony floor. 
Without either pillow, or blanket, or g'own, 

1 stretch my weak bodj- right close to the door. 
And there, in sweet sleep, my vision to drown — 
Then, when I awake, I 'm not so cast down. 

There is nothinar so sweet and perfectly soothinj.' 
To one who is placed in a cold dunffeon cell. 

As the thought that yet there are dear ones a-wooin<r 
The one who 's imprisoned in a dark, dreary dell — 
I muttered, while sleeping-, " 'T is well, ah, "l is well." 

Then, when I awoke and proceeded to thinlc. 
Cold, stiffened and hung-ryiwith tong^ue parched from lliir> 

I seek but in vain for food and for drink. 
But bread and poor water, the same as at first — 
Ave, drv bread and bad water, the same as at first. 



r 



PRISON POETRY. 

Tlii'ii my heart sank within nte, so weak and so pale, 
As I yazed on the keeper of dinifreon and jail 

Anil beiffj-ed for a drink of pure Adams' ale, 
As he held in his hand a full water pail — 
Hut the answer came back, " Your plea it must fail." 

Then, aivintr it up in pure desperation, 
1 try to surpass the curse of damnation 

That spring's to my lips ere I can but control 
The blood that i.s boiled by such torturing- droll — 
Then I whisper, "Be still! Some one loves this poor soul. 

Then, staid by the love of those dear ones at home, 
I steady myself and g^o swimming along; 

1 brave the hard life of a dark dungeon cell 
-And I ciitne out victorious, all perfect and well — 
Then I meet them again and go home there to dwell. 
"T is well ! Ah, "t is well ! 



39 



HOPE. 



BY SAM LAW. 



The world may change from old to new. 

From new to old again, — 
Y'et Hope and Heaven, forever true. 

Within man's heart remain. 
The dreams that bless the weary soul. 

The struggle of the strong. 
Are steps toward some happy goal. 
The story of Hope's song. 



<^// 



40 



PRISON POETRY. 

WOULD THEY Know? 



BY 25700. 



If, amid these prison shadows, 

These pale lips should breathe their last. 
Would my friends regret the summons, 

And forg^ive my g'uiltj- past? 



Would they know the dire temptations 
I had met and nobly braved 

Ere the tears in sfuilty passion 

M_v pale cheeks in torrents laved '/ 



Would they know how oft and earnest 
I had plead before the throne 

For the place my crime made vacant 
In the bosom of my own ? 



Would these hours of retribution 
Prove sufficient for my sin ? 

Would the gates of glory open 
To let this wear3- wanderer in '.' 



Hear, Oh, hear! From yonder heavt 
Speaks the Lamb once crucified; 
'Look up, sad one; never falter; 
For such sinners once I died." 




PRISON POETRY. ^X 

GUILT'S QUERIES AND TRUTH'S REPLIES. 



BY HARRISON. 



GUILT. 

Will the fountain of life, now bathed in tears, 
Ebb and flow ten weary years ? 
Will the soul escape the horrible blig-ht 
That stalks in prison's g'ruesorae night? 

TRUTH. 

Trust, wear3- one, alone in Me; 
Living' or dead, thou shalt be free 
From prison blight and sin's alarms, 
While closely nestling in in_v arms. 

GUILT. 

Will the absent ones I love the best 
'Neath heaven's smile serenelj- rest? 
Will everj- branch of the familj- tree 
Still bud and bloom till I am free? 

TRUTH. 

If thej- lean upon my breast 
I will give thj- loved ones rest; 
If death a single jewel steal 
Heaven its presence it shall reveal. 

GUILT. 

While prayers ascend from sacred fane 
Shall penitent tears be shed in vain ? 
Will Christ ascend to a prison cell 
And deign in a convict heart to dwell? 

TRUTH. 

None will I spurn who pardon crave — 
I came on earth the lost to save: 
He loves the most whose debt is large — 
That soul is heaven's peculiar charge. 



42 



PRISON POETRY, 



GUILT. 



If ever ag-ain I shall be free 

Will the wreck of my life still haunted be? 

Will the much loved friends in the days of yore 

Spurn me from their open door? 

TRUTH. 

Those who bathe in Calvarj-'s stream 
Sin reerard as a hideous dream; 
My children clothed in white bj- me 
A welcome meet where'er they be. 



A LETTER FROM HOME. 



BY NO. 24138, 



1 am far from the land where my loved ones are dwelling- : 
Between rolls the sea, with its billows and foam; 

Yet m3' heart with fondest emotions is swelling 
As I read the dear letter they've sent me from home. 

For I fancy I see the brown cottagre again, 
And the garden where sweetly the red roses blow; 

I kneel by a grave in the shade of the glen, 
Where slumbers the dear one I lost long ago. 

And oft to my heart, when in solitude straying. 
Fond memory recalls the bright days of yore, 

And I sigh for the fields, where the children are pla5-ing'. 
The hills and the vallej' I maj' never see more. 

Long years have I wandered, alone and a stranger. 
And dark is the pathway o'er which I must roam, 

But I know there is One who can shield me from danger. 
And his blessing I ask on the dear ones at home. 



PRISON POETRY. 43 

THE REFORMER. 



BY SAM LAW. 



All grim and soiled and brown with tan, 

I saw a strong' one in his wrath 
Smitingr the grodless shrines of man 

Along- his path. 

I looked: aside the dust cloud rolled — 
The Master seemed the Builder too; 

Upspring-ingr from the ruined Old 
I saw the New. 

Throug-h prison walls, like heaven-sent hope, 
Fresh breezes blew and sunbeams strayed. 

And with the idle g^allows rope 
The young child played. 

Where the doomed victim in his cell 
Had counted o'er the wear3- hours 

Glad school girls, answering to the bell. 
Came crowned with flowers. 



REFLECTIONS. 



How pleasant it is to be at home. 

Surrounded bj* those we love; 
How sweet to list to words of cheer 
That softly fall on the listening- ear 

Like the notes of a cooing dove. 

low the soft caress of a loving hand 

Can dry the eyes that weep! 
How the mind is eased and the pulses thrill 
As we feel the strength of a loving will 

That rocks our grief to sleep. 



44 



PRISON POETRY. 

How soft that hand has ever been 

When sickness laid us low, 
How its soft caress could summon rest 
And bring- relief to the laboring- breast. 

And cool the fever's g-low. 

How soft the light in love-lit ej-e. 
That welcomes our safe return; 
How the tender kiss and warm embrace 
Can soothe the pain of late disgrace 
When fate has been too stern. 

God bless the home where love abides — 

'Tis the dearest spot on earth! 
Be it hovel or palace, or great or small. 
It holds man's hope, his joy, his all, 
And heaven gave it birth! 



THE Prisoner released. 



BY COL. H. C. PARSONS. 



I could Stand and look at the stars all night — 
Where tides run in wreaths to the rivers and rills, 
Where the sea breezes pla.v with the wind from the hills^ 
Where b3- land and by sea man can go where he wills — 

I'm a free man again, and a free man of right. 

I could stand and look at the stars all night. 
For months that were years they have prisoned my stars; 
M3' silver-veiled Venus and red-hooded Mars 
Were fettered and framed by the merciless bars. 

That shaded their glory or shivered their light. 

I will stand and look at the stars all night; 
I will wait in the shadow and lee of the tower 
Till morning shall come, with his magical power — 
Perhaps in the flame of that wonderful hour 

The prison shall tremble and pass from my sight. 



PRISON POETRY. 
PRISON PAINS. 



45 



3Y HARRISON. 



Oh I to be heart hungry, 

To feel that never ag-ain 
Shall the heart pulsate with rapture 

To the music of love's strain ! 

To feel o'er the senses stealing- 

A grief for words too deep, 
And know the heart's best instincts 

Are locked in fathomless sleep. 

To hear the piteous wailings 
That rise from an empty heart. 

While everj' breath is torture 
And every thought a dart. 

Oh, list to the wondrous music 
As it floats from the world above: 

" There is balm for the broken-hearted: 
The g-ift of my Son is — love." 

A3e, praj-er to heaven ascending, 
Tho' winged from a convict cell. 

Shall find in heaven a welcome 
No tong-ue can ever tell. 



The Under dog. 



BY BARKER. 



I know that the world — the great, big- world. 
From the peasant up to the king. 

Has a different tale from the tale I tell 
And a different song to sing. 



46 PRISON POETRY. 

But for me — and I care not a sing'le fig- 
If they say I was wrongr or am rig'ht — 

I shall always g'o in for the weaker dogr, 
For the under dog in the fight. 

I know that the world — the great, big world — 

Will never a moment stop 
To see which dog niaj- be in the fault, 

But will shout for the dog on top. 

But for me — I never shall pause to ask 
Which dog may be in the right — 

For m\- own heart will beat, while it beats at all. 
For the under dog in the fight. 



KINDNESS. 



BY ROTH. 

A kind word for the prisoner, 
A smile to cheer his heart, 

For he bears a grievous burden, 
Tho' he bravel3- plays his part. 

From the world he hides his sorrows, 
Stifles the groan of distress 

That struggles oft for utterance 
Beneath his convict dress. 

The alert night watch could tell 
Of the burning sighs they hear 

While making midnight rounds 
Through corridors so drear. 

Then cheer his lot with kindness. 
E'en though he be depraved: 

If, wakened from his blindness. 
The worst one mav be saved. 



PRISON POETRY. 47 

THERE IS NO DEATH. 



There is 110 death 1 The feeble body, sluinberiii^ 

Seems but to waste and fade away ; 
In future years that God is numbering- 

'Twill spring- from slumber and decay. 

And clothed with beauty everlasting-, 

With not a stain of earth to mar, 
'Twill voice a music more entrancing- 

Than anthem of the morning- star. 

A thing- of beaut3' is immortal; 

Each line once lost to mortal sight, 
Soars upward to heaven's august portal, 

Glad to escape earth's cankering night. 

Earth's best and brightest can not perish— 

Death is decreed alone to strife. 
The good we love and fondly cherish 

God has endowed with endless life. 

Grieve not for those now calmly sleeping. 
Rocked bj- the slow, revolving earth: 

Angelic hosts around them sweeping- 
Shall wake them to an endless birth. 

In heaven above there is no seeming; 

God feeds immortal souls on bliss; 
On earth we ling-er, sadl^- dreaming-, 

Till death awakes us with a kiss. 

Then fear thee not death's friendly slumbers: 

Guardian angels watch thy rest; 
Jehovah all thy da3S shall number 

And do for thee whate'er is best. 



48 prison poetry. 

Dreams. 



Dreams are but glimpses of the power 
Deep hidden in the human soul 

That, like some enchanted flower, 
Withers 'neath reason's stern control. 

They come not as invited guests 
To while awaj- the tedious hours — 

Are the}' not lights from heaven sent 
To teach the soul its wondrous powers ? 

And best thej- love to lead us back 
O'er scenes to niemorj- doubly dear. 

For those we, waking, love the most 
In dreams will seem most near. 

While reason sleeps the soul, awake. 
Lives o'er each precious hour, 

And woos us with a gentle strain 
Of pathos and of power. 

Dreams index to our waking thought 
Plans on which the heart is set. 

And he who heeds their warning voice 
Has in life least to regret. 

In waking hours we sow the seed, 

In dreams we reap the grain: 
Sometimes the harvest all is joy, 

Sometimes, alas! 'tis pain. 

What marvel then that sleep is sweet. 
If dreams bring bliss to view — 

Perhaps the afterglow of death 
Will prove most dreams are not untrue. 



PRISON POETRY. 49 

THE Great "O. P." 



" Forward, march I " the left foot first, 

The heel down mighty hard. 
Your head erect and turned to the left. 

As you slyl}' watch the guard. 
Tramp, tramp, three times each day. 

Back and forth to our meals. 
While the fellow behind, with his " State brogans, 

Scrapes the skin all off our heels. 

The visitors in amaze at us gaze 

As we march gayly b3-. 
The ladies fair, with man^- a stare. 

Will slyly say, " O my I " 
Some " Haj-seed " old, with a chronic cold. 

Will suddenlj- saj-, " I swow ! 
There goes the man — do you see him Ann ? — 

What took our brindle cowl" 

They say we are '"cut-throats and " robbers," 

And would be worse if we could; 
But it's false — we're noble-hearted patriots, 

Here for our countr3-'s good. 
And the honor came to us, j-ou know: 

We didn't go to it — 
In other words, we were forced here 

To "do " our little "bit." 

Uncle Sam's domain has been ransacked 

For men with blue-blooded veins. 
For wo don't want any persons here 

With any mortal stains. 
We are all old sons of Irish lords — 

Or at least we'd like to be — 
But instead we are onlj- "cons," j-ou know. 

Doing time in the great " O. P." 



50 



PRISON POETRY. 
COMING IN AND GOING OUT. 



BY CARR. 



Coming' in to penal slavery. 

Coming in from liberty; 
Going- out to joj' and freedom. 

Going out the world to see; 
Coming' in, oh, how unhappy I 

Going out with many a doubt — 
Endless stream of wretched mortals 

Coming in and going out. 



From the nianj- charms of home life. 

From beneath the humble cot. 
To this penal institution 

Where the felon mortal 's brought 
From some distant homes perhaps torn 

Because grim justice took a fit — 
Coming in with sighs and sadness, 

A bondsman for his life or "bit." 



Far his loving wife and children. 

While their eyes with tears are wet; 
Though his family needs him daily. 

And there are bills that must be met. 
To this convict world about us. 

With its heartless woe and din. 
Endless stream of restless mortals 

Adding to its load of sin. 



Time goes on so ver.v slowly. 

Though we try hard not to grieve 
For the dear old f amilj- homestead 

And for those we're forced to leave: 
Weary are we very often. 

Weary when we trj- to win 
News of those who loved us dearly 

Ere we took this step in sin. 



PRISON POETRY. 51 

Coniiiifr in, alas! to never 

See the outside world ag-ain'! 
Some there are that have ni.v pity: 

Naught for them but toil and pain; 
Doomed life's golden hours to fritter 

Tar from home and friends most dear — 
God's pitj- on the poor full-termer 

Cominfr in to die, we fear. 

Coming' in to serve our sentence. 

Going^ out, we hope, to cheer; 
Coming in to do hard labor. 

Going' out to family dear — 
Careless stream of wretched mortals 

From all stations 'long life's route — 
Hovel, mansion and the hamlet — 

Coming' in and g-oing out. 



SOUL SCULPTURE. 



BY BISHOP DOANE. 



Sculptures of life are we as we stand, 

With our souls uncarved before us. 
Waiting- the hour when, at God's command, 

Our life dream shall pass o'er us. 
If we carve it, then, on the yielding stone 

With many a sharp incision. 
Its heavenl}- beauty shall be our own. 

Our lives the ang^el vision. 




52 



PRISON POETRY. 

WEIGHT AND IMMORTALITY OF WORDS. 



Who knows how heavy his words may be,. 
Or watches, when he has set them free. 
Their poising', fheir flig^ht, their rise and fall 
In the world of thoug-ht? We are careless all. 

We fathom our own, not another's mind. 
And are all near-sighted ainong our kind. 
While words of ours and words of theirs 
Are meeting and wrestling unawares. 

Words are tjpes of our moral trend. 
The blooms of our daily lives, that lend 
To others the fragrance of what we are— 
The outward semblance that goes afar. 

The part of ourselves that is not our own. 
When set afloat in the vast unknown. 
The something we give to the moving wheels 
Of the might3- force that grows and feels. 

No words are lost as thej- float away: 
On some life ever they rest and weigh. 
Unbound in public or depths obscure 
Their immortality is secure. 

Deep in our hearts we often find 
Words lips long closed have left behind: 
The3- live in the chambers of the brain. 
The source of endless joj- or pain. 

Words may be soft as evening air 

Or fierce as sultrj- noonday's glare. 

But soft or fierce, be sure they rest 

A curse or blessing in some one's breast. 

How deep soever their meaning may lie. 
Not ever}- soul will pass them by ! 
No anger, nor passion, nor malice so great 
Bnt a match "twill meet in a world of hate. 



PRISON POETRY. 



53 



Mo love so deep, no word so kind 
Bui lodgres at last in a kindred mind. 
No thougrht so vast, nor hiffh nor low- 
But a parallel meets in a world of woe. 

A heedless word a heart may break, 
A thoughtful one a fortune make; 
One, hurl a soul in endless nisrht; 
Another, lead to heaven's delig-ht. 

One word may nerve a murderer's arm, 
Another still a rag-ing- storm — 
One, sow the seeds of endless strife; 
Atiflther, sanctify a life. 

Otir words outline the feeble tongue 
From which their outward being sprung 
Or, written on the stainless page, 
They live to bless or curse an age. 

How careful, then, ought we to be 
Before we let such engines free! 
Once free, no power can call them back, 
Nor human genius trace their track. 

We loose them 'mid the wide expanse 
'Neath joyous spell or sorrow's trance, 
But if their fruitage all could know 
We would not deem them half so low. 



'//^^ 



54 



PRISON POETRY. 
WHICH LOVED HER BEST? 



Two votaries of love's raaddeninj^ dream 
At twilig-ht sat beside a stream. 
Each painting- scenes of future bliss. 
Dependent on their darling-'s kiss. 

Both were j-ountr and both were fair. 
With noble hearts and nranl\- air. 
And both were members of a band 
Who bled to free his native land. 

Each was bound both heart and soul 
Beneath fair Nellie's sweet control, 
Yet thej- were friends both true and tried. 
If such ere lived, if such ere died. 

Each loved her much, yet neither knew 
How well each loved her, nor how true, 
Tor each was dreaming' of the hour 
That he would cull this priceless flower. 

At last Ned turned and gajly said, 
" Next Wednesday I and Nellie wed — 
God knows I am the happiest man 
In all this joyous Western land. 

">! could not keep this back from you — 

That would be unjust— untrue. 

I feel whatever shall betide 

That yon will e'er defend mv bride." 

Harvey turned aside his face, 

Lest his friend should see some trace 

Of the ang-uish and despair 

The hopeless suffering- mirrored there. 

Each word had sunk within his heart 
Like adder's tooth or poisoned dart; 
Joyful love and hope had fled. 
And left his withered heart — stone dead. 



PRISON POETRY. 55 

He raised his hag-g-ard face above 
Until an an^el mother's love 
Sent comfort to her suffering- child, 
That made him calm and meek and mild. 

By memories of the tented field 
AVhere patriots died, but dared not yield, 
He knew that Ned his arm had lent 
To stop steel for his bosom meant. 

And oft had watched beside his bed 
When others in dismay had fled". 
When he spoke, his voice was low 
And soft as rippling- streamlets flow: 

• 
*' I wish you peace and joy, Ned; 
You best deserve this queen to wed. 
I only crave in future life 
To serve you and your peerless wife." 

The loyal look in Harvey's ej-es 
Was to Ned a new surprise; 
And in a moment all was plain — 
His friend's devotion and his pain. 

They stood and wrung- each others hand 
To reinforce their friendship's band — 
Their hearts were full, their eyes were wet, 
Yet who can such a scene regret ? 

Their friendship stood the cruel test. 
And sank triumphant into rest; 
Thej' parted, but to meet again 
Where life was torture, memory pain. 

One year passed, and war had swejjt 
O'er the spot where these two wept. 
While they, with Meig's galland band, 
Were held by Santa Anna's hand. 

Behind Satillo's gloom3' walls, 
Whose historj' stoutest heart appalls, 



§6 PRISON POETRY. 

Here base deeds were hourly wroug-ht 
With hell's intensest malice f raug-ht. 

Two hundred patriots true and tried 
To Santa Anna's shame here died 
Simply because the3' leapt the wall 
And strove to g-o bejond recall I 

Ned and his comrades planned their flig-ht 
While careless sentries slept at night, 
And in safety reached the distant plain 
Where hope and lite revived again. 

Across the arid plain they sped, 

Half clothed, half starved and almost dead; 

Without a guide to lead them right 

They toiled by da3' and pra.ved by night. 

The blistering soil bold cactus bred 
Till everj' toil-worn foot was bled. 
And one by one the hapless band 
Fell prostrate on the glittering sand. 

Pursuing soldiers found them thus, 
And drug and drove them to the " truss," 
There to await the " tortures grand " 
That Santa Anna would command. 

"Nine of ten shall now be shot; 
Choose the guiltj' dogs bj- lot: 
This law for ages now untold 
Has defied both fraud and gold! " 

Nine black beans and one snow zvhitr 
Were placed within a bo.x at night — 
Every captive must draw one, 
Blindfolded, ere the work begun. 

If 7alute, he lived, if black, he died — 
. Thus were the Texas patriots tried! 
By sons of Gantimozin's race — 
Man's caricature and heaven's disgrace! 



PRISON POETKY. 57 

Harvey drew one of faultless white, 
Ned drew one as black as nig-lit. 
•" I'm lost — oh, God, mj- wife! " Ned grasped. 
As Harvej- sprang- his hand to clasp. 

■" Not so," he cried, " your bean is white — 
See, mine is />?arA\ thank God! 'tis rigrht! '" 
E'er Ned could draw a conscious breatli — 
Harvey- had met a hero's death.' 

Which loved her best, the man who di'rd 
Or he who liz/^d to cheer his bride ? 
Please answer me; O heart, awake — 
Such libertv I dare not take. 



THE STORMS OF LIFE. 



BY SAM LAW. 



The oak strikes deeper as his boug-hs 

By furious blasts are driven; 
So life's vicissitudes the more 

Have fixed my heart in heaven. 
All gracious Lord, whate'er my lot 

In other times ma.v be. 
I'll welcome still the heaviest g'rief 

That bring-s me near to Thee. 




58 PRISON POETRY. 

LOVE'S VICTIM. 



She was no dainty citj- belle. 

Half art and half deceit, 
And yet no fairer vision 

The human eye could greet. 

Naug'ht knew she of city life 

Or fashion's chang'ing' art — 
Nature created her a belle 

And blessed her with a heart. 

Her eyes were larjife and soulful. 

Her face divinelj- fair; 
Her form was lithe and graceful 

And a g-olden dream her hair. 

Her voice was full of melody: 

Each tone to listening- ear 
Seemed to awake such music 

As ang-els delight to hear. 

Beautiful, pui-e and guileless, 
With the faith of a trusting child. 

She worshiped the God of nature 
With a spirit undefiled. 

She lived with honest parents 
In a home on the mountain side. 

Where peace and plent3- lingered 
And love was true and tried. 

Parental duress was unknown. 
For love's restraints are mild: 

A mother's love and father's hope 
Were centered in this child. 

The acknowledged belle of the mountain. 
She spurned the coquette's art. 

Determining never to promise 
Her hand without her heart. 



PRISON POETRY. 59 

She could not love her suitors 

With the love a wife should jsrive. 
And deemed it sin without such love 

In wedlock's bonds to live. 

The idol of manj- a noble heart, 

None dared their suit to press: 
Thus they wound the grentle spirit 

That pitied, but could not bless. 

(irateful for each friendly smile 

That o'er her face would beam, 
She rei^rned an empress absolute 

In each fond lover's dream. 

• 
A petted child of fashion, 

The heir to boundless wealth, 

Came one daj- among- them 

To recruit his waning- health. 

These hospitable mountain people 

Welcomed the haggard boy, 
And strove to make his visit 

One radiant scene of joj-. 

They bade their darling daughter 

To be the stranger's guide, 
And show him all the beauties 

Of her loved mountain side. 

Together they scaled the mountains. 

With many a merry shout; 
Together thej- garnered the flowers 

Or angled the nimble trout. 

He spake of his home in the citv. 

Of the wealth he soon would own; 
Promised to make Lenora his wife 

Ere the summer days had flown. 

Lenora loved this stranger 
With a soul-absorbing- love. 



6o PRISON POETRT, 

And trembled 'neath his caresses 
As helpless as a dove. 

He was a master of the art 
That robs the halls of Truth 

To g'ain what passion courts, 
Tho" it blasts the hopes of youth. 

His honied words of flattery. 
Uttered with seductive art. 

Were music to the listening ear 
And soon deceived the heart. 

Lenora confided in his worth. 

Receiving each promise as truth — ■ 

How could she doubt her onl3- love 
In the trustful hours of youth? 

Assured of an early marriag-e. 
She yielded to him one daj- 

That priceless germ of innocence 
And fell — to trust a prey. 

She hoped this sacrifice would gain 
Her lover's ever_v thought; 

This were a boon, if death could buy. 
She deemed not dearly boitght. 

Little she dreamed that fatal hour 
That love had sped the dart 

That stamped her as an outcast. 
With a withered, broken heart. 

Eugene went to his city home. 
Swearing to soon return 

And claim as wife the girl he knew 
His parents proud would spurn. 

Summer and autumn days passed by 
And the winter's cold set in. 

Yet the recreant lover came not 
To the child he taught to sin. 



PRISON POETRY. 6l 

A mother's ever watchful eye 

Discovered her daus'hter''s shame. 
Heard her story with breaking heart, 

lUit uttered uo word of blame. 

She knew her daughter's downfall 

Was the fruit of love bejruiled. 
But hated the heartless strang-er 

Who ruined her trusting child. 

God alone can measure the pain 

That child and mother felt. 
As, locked in lingering embrace, 

In agony they knelt 

And poured in heaven's listening ear 

Their heart-destroying grief; 
And who so bold as to deny 

That Heaven sent relief? 

The father learned his daughter's sin 

And drove her from his door. 
"Go! " he said, "you guiltj' wretch, 

You are m3' child no more." 

Stung by these cruel, terrible words, 

She fled in wild affright 
In search of the heartless lover, 

Her fearful wrongs to right. 

She tracked the guilty miscreant down, 

And he, to save his name, 
Hid her till her child was born 

In a house of doubtful fame. 

The world looked on the helpless child 

With cold, unpitying eye. 
The villian bade his dupe go home, 

"Repent of her sin and die." 

She heard, and from her glittering eye 
No tear of anguish sped — 



62 PRISON POETRY. 

With dagrger drawn she reached his side, 
And struck the villian dead ! 

With her babe she soug-ht her father's door 

And pled with a piteous cr^- 
A shelter for her hapless babe 

While the storm was ragrins^ hig-h. 

"Begone, you wretch! "'' the father cried, 

" I curse the hour that gave 
Birth to a wretch whose sin has laid 

My wife within tlie grave." 

"My mother dead! and I still live? 

Ah! whither shall I fly ? 
O God ! protect my hapless babe, 

And suffer me to die." 

The storm increased; she wandered on 

Almost till break of daj*. 
Till weary, wet and almost dead, 

She knelt in the path to pray. 

The sk3' was lit from end to end 
B3' the lightning's awful glare. 

And a falling tree pinned both to earth 
As they knelt in the act of pra3'er! 

They found them thus in the morning light. 
And the father's grief was wild. 

He tenderlj' looked on the touching scene 
And at last forgave his child! 

They buried Lenora and her nameless babe 
Close beside her mother's claj-, 

And each one spake in kindl.v tones 
Of the hapless ones that day. 

The arm that sent the dagger home 
Was nerved by a brain dethroned: 

'Tis Lenora's was an awful deed, 
But her terrible death atoned. 



PKISON POETRY. 

Aye, let us hope the niuch-wroiiffed child 

Has reached a home above 
Where babes can live who have no name 

And 'tis not sin to love. 



63 



A PRISONER'S LAMENTATION. 



A poor convict in his cell lay d3-ing-: 

He thought of home and loved ones dear. 
He asked his cell-mate, in a whisper, 

" Do you think the end is drawing near ? '' 

• 

*' If I should die before I see tiiem 
Tell them how I long-ed to-night 

To have my mother's blessed care 

To leave this world of sin and strife." 



Oh I how he longed to see his mother 

And the cottage on the hill — 
" God dless them all," I heard him whisper, 

As with tears his eyes did fill. 



" Will they think of me — a prisoner — 
I, who was once their pride and joy? 

W^hile I sleep in the churchyard yonder 
Will they think of their wa3-ward boj-? 



'• I know I've caused them lots of trouble 
In wild and reckless boyish day, 

But I hope that God will now forgive me 
When from this earth I'm called away, 

"I know it broke nij- mother's heart 
When she heard of me, her wayward son. 

Who five long years did serve in prison 
For a highwaj- robbery he had done. 



64 PRISON POETRV. 

"Has Sister "Minn," whom I used to pla.v with 
In days of youth, forg'otten nie ? 

If she has, I vow I can not blame her. 
For I've caused her pain and .shame, not plee. 

"There's but one wish I now shall mention — 
That Mother's daj's may be days of jo.v. 

And when she asks for me in prison 
Speak mildly of her convict boy. 

" Here, take this to my dear old mother! 

I know 'tis but a lock of hair. 
But it's all I've grot to g"ive her now — 

I know she'll treasure it with care." 

And when he handed me the keepsake 
His spark of life had nearly fled. 

He clenched my hand and uttered " Mother .'" 
And a poor convict there lay dead. 

May all young men now take fair warninjr 
From one who's had experience lon^r: 

Guard strong' ag-ainst temptation's dawning — 
Cast off evil and do no wrong-. 

In j-our younger days court good, shu)i evil; 

Be careful who 3-ou companions choose: 
When 3'ou make life's start then do not cavil — 

March manfuUv on to win, not lose. 



PRISC^X POETRY. 
OUR BOARD OF MANAGERS. 



l,()ii}r have we lived in misery and woe; 

Lonjj have we suffered from " kindness" cold as snow ; 

Long- has pernicious influence been kept 

Hovering- 'round our misery, while in dunsreons we have slepl. 

Lontr have we suffered from want of human care; 

Long have we been bearded as the tiger in his lair; 

Long have we went hung-ry for want of proper food. 

And felt the sting of tli" master's lash, as o'er our task we stood. 

As the dark and gloomj- cloud, that hovered o'er our past. 
Has been wafted off by humane hands — 'tis swept away at last. 
We now emerge from darkness into a welcome light. 
And live in brighter future hope.s — a day made out of night. 

We hail you. noble, honest men, wiiose hearts beat five as one. 
Thus far in your prison work your duty you have done: 
Eternal God will always right the brutal wrongs of man. 
And therefore He did send vou here to do the best vou can. 



A Cherrington, for the chairman, is a master stroke, you know. 

And a Rose is alwajs welcome, 'cause virtue he will sow; 

A McConica, of democrat fame, is a power behind the throne. 

While a Hoffman, sent from Cleveland, is a father to tlie home; 

A Muscroft from old "Cincj* " is a rattler for the place; 

They all do join their hands and thoughts and duty bravely face. 

While a McAdow records their acts with a gentlemanly grace. 

They issue mandates right and left and order what is just; 
They raise poor fallen, helpless man to a place of welcome trust; 
They seek to lead him on the way to a nobler, better life. 
And restore him to his children and his broken hearted wife. 



Their Coffin always sits close by to lend a helping hand. 
And faithfully their trust does keep — a leader of their band. 
Well the3- know the awful fruitage of each harsh and brutal plan 
Is to rouse the lurking- tig-er in the breast of erring man. 



66 PRISON POETRY. 

Now they rnle, whose every impulse rxpened by enlightened 

thOHgllt, 

And it leads to many actions that with hig-hest t:ood is fraufrht. 
And Ihej- use with g-reat discretion measures that are just and 

kind, 
Hopinuf to reform the erring- throucrh the asrency of mind. 

They have learned the useful lesson tauifht men from the power 

above, 
That the g-reatest force in nature is the power of inspired love. 
They have learned that rank dissension from all evil nature flows. 
And the}' deem that man the ij-reatest who can ease most mortal 

woes. 

Let us ever sing- enchanting- of our now official corps 

As they- lift us from dark ruin as it has been heretofore. 

See! the clouds so lately darkening- o'er the prisoner's g-loomy 

past, 
Mercy's hand is fast dispelling: — Reason hrkrs the reins at last ! 



A TRIBUTE TO 

ASSISTANT DEPUTY WARDEN L H WELLS. 



BY G. W. VAN WEIGHS. 



Comrade, may the (iod of heaven ease the maddening pain 
That has swept across your bosom since your son was slain; 
Think not of him as a mortal mouldering into dust; — 
God, too, loved him and, my comrade. He hetra\-s no trust. 



You shall see him when the morning- breaks above the night of 

death, 
And j-our parting-, O, my comrade, will but seem a passing- breath. 
Well I know the awful pressure grief exerts upon the soul, 
But I know it will but whiten what it can't control. 



PRISON POETRV. 67 

You have met on field of battle many a gallant foe. 
And, with patriotism burning-, gave them blow for blow. 
You have fought till everj- rebel bent the suppliant knee. 
And the land \-ou loved and cherished once again was free. 

You despise no gallant fellow who once wore the blue 
AVhcn it cost both blood and treasure if a man was true. 
You forgive the trivial errors of that noble band. 
And you meet a loyal comrade with extended hand. 

You have friends in every station where ^-our worth is known; 
You have show«red acts of kindness that but few have known. 
Since j-our advent in this prison you have daily won 
• Hearts that ever will remember ac/s of kindness >Hibly done. 

Comrade, time is passing swiftly, and Jehovah his reveille 
Soon will sound upon the hilltops of a vast eternity. 
May we gather with our comrades on that ever beautiful shore 
And, like conquering heroes, listen to Heaven's plaudits ever 
more. 



One and a Few. 



Of all the pet pleasures so pleasing to \nau 
In his pre.sent degenerate state, 

I doubt if there's any can make him so glad 
As the one I'm about to relate. 



While here he's confined he's troubled in mind 
With his " fifteen " or " twentj- " to do. 

And he longs for the day when he boldly can saj-; 
" I've only got one and a few." 

Then keep a strong heart. W^itli courage don't part. 
But manfull3- fight your waj- through; 

Be it " five " or it " ten " or twice that again, 
'Twill come down to "one and a few." 



68 PRISON POETRY. 

How often al iiiijlit when I sit in my cell. 
After workintr tjuite hard all the daj', 

My memory g-oes back to the time that I fell. 
For the "bit" which I now have to staj-. 

And sometimes, I own, while sittincf alone 

I feel sad and disconsolate, too; 
But it makes me feel gay when I think 1 can say, 

" I've only jrot one and a few." 

Oh, many's a home that's cheerless tonig'ht, 

And man3-'s the mother feels drear; 
When she thinks of the one far away from her siyht 

It causes her many a tear. 

Thouirh others may cleave to her, vou are the same; 

Misfortune but makes her more true; 
She may now be quite sad, but won't she feel ylad 

When .you've only frot "one and a few?" 

Then, don't be discouraged. No matter how lonfr 
In this prison j-ou maj- have to staj-, 

You know that to worry and fret is quite wrong. 
Far better drive dull care away. 

Old Time is the boy your "bit" to destroj- 
As he jogs along, contented and true; 

And so, in the end, you'll find he's the friend 
That brought you to "one and a few." 



MIDNIGHT MUSINGS. 



'Tis midnight! The sentry's muffled tread 

Is heard within these walls: 
As silent as the living dead 

He makes his regular calls. 

I trj- to sleep, liut all in vain; 

I trj- to close — 1 weep, 
1 hear that muffled tread again — 

The sentries on me peep. 



PRISON POETRY. 69 

I hear a voice so clear and plain — 

It calls to me aloud — 
It calls to me ag-ain, ag-ain; 

That voice comes from a shrond. 

Hist; Hist! vile heart, be still! No lear, 

My angel sister's voice I hear! 
It speaks to me in accents clear 

And bids me shun a vile career. 

She bids me meet her once acrain 

And live in Heaven's fairest clime. 
Nor shall her pleading' be in vain — 

Kesnlved, Til do no crime. 



Oh, could I feel her warm embrace 
As when, in days of old, 

I g'azed into her ang-eled face — 
It g'ave happiness vmtold. 

Oh, let me live my boyhood days 

As in the time gone by ! 
And let me consecrate her ways 

When for this bov she'd crv. 



But, hist! again the muffled tread 
Comes g-liding-, silent as the dead, 

Along' the beat within these walls — 
Hark! Hark! ag'ain dear sister calls. 



A QUERY. 



BY MOKSE. 



When the long- weary days are over 
And the front gates open to you, 

Are j-ou again to be a wild rover? 
What are you going to do? 



70 



PRISON POETRY. 

Have you plans or dreams for the future? 

Have the days any brig'htness for j-ou ? 
Will you be a poor homeless creature? 

What are yon going to do ? 

Should your old-time friends forsake you- 
Those who were strong' and true — 

And leave you helpless, homeless — 
What are you g'oing- to do ? 

But j-ou have one friend who is faithful. 

Who is alwaj-s kind and true. 
Read His word and stud3' His g'ospel — 

He'll tell vou what to do. 



STRAY THOUGHTS. 



In the fathomless depths of the niig-hty deep 
What wonders live, what mysteries sleep! 
What mind can name the sightless thing's 
That live in the ocean's hidden spring's. 
Where treasures heaped on treasures lie, 
Forever secure from the human eye; 
Where creatures sport, that God alone 
Can know their J03' or hear their moan ? 

Who Icnows but the bride of the Dublin Bay 
May walk in the ocean's depths today. 
Arm in arm with her own dear Roj- 
In the conscious flush of hone3-moon joj'? 
Who knows but the hearts that sadl.v 3-earned 
For the g'allant ship that never returned. 
Have met, in the ocean's unknown bed. 
The loved, tho' lost, we all thousrht dead ? 

Science has proved the human frame 
Is water and salt b3' another name'. 
Hvdrog'raph3- 3-et ma3- teach mankind 
The open door of heaven to find. 
" Davie Jones' locker " ma3- prove to be 



PRISON POETRY. 7I 

Instinct with life, by death set free ! 
Knew we the tongrue of the deep sea shell 
What wondrous news its notes misrht tell I 

The mjriad stars in yonder skies 
May be the beams of death-freed eyes 
That watch us from an unknown shore. 
Still faithful to the vows of yore! 
The vaulted blue of heaven may be 
The looking- g-lass of the mighty sea, 
Where deathless souls their vigils keep 
O'er fast decaying world, asleep. 

Atlantis, the fabled city of old, 
Whose gates inspired poets behold. 
May now be resting beneath the wave. 
Triumphant o"er a watery gravel 
Its pearU" gates and glittering spires 
Arouse the poet's mad desires. 
He sees — and sings in tongue unknown — 
The mysteries by the Muses shown. 



Conducted by a sybil fair. 

He penetrates each demon lair 

And pictures hell, in golden speech, 

Beyond imagination's reach. 

To highest heaven his thought has flown 

And measured and admired the throne; 

Made angels bow beneath his rod 

And dared to mould the mind of (iodi 

Who knows but legends the Muses tell 
Are truths encased in a mighty dream? 
Who knows but the angels of earth and air 
Are the beautiful nymphs beside each stream' 
Each singing bird and nodding flower 
May be imbued with potent power; 
And stars an influence, too, may wield 
And bless or curse our natal hour I 

Who knows but what we call a brute 
Is with immortal reason blest? 



72 PRISON POETRY. 

Who knows man is alone divine 
And destined to immortal rest? 
Theorize and reason as we may. 
How little we can reallj- know; 
We onl_v learn to live, then die, 
And who may sa3- to what we sjo ? 



JUDGE NOT. LEST YE BE JUDGED. 



BY SAM LAW. 



Art thou so good, so free from sin 
That thou should'st judge thj- fellow men ? 
Look well to self before the stone. 
Aimed at thj- brother's faults, be thrown. 

Behold in thee 

A Pharisee. 

If thou art not so low, perchance thou'rt only so from 

circumstance; 
Perhaps, if tempted, thou would'st fall. Th.v nature's 

sinful, after all. 

Thou knov/esi not, most righteous scribe. 
The strug'g'les, trials, patience tried; 
The battles fought, the vict'ries gained. 
The bleeding heart, the soul tear-stained. 

More human be. 

Have charity. 



I ./ 



PRISON POETRY. 
THE CONVICT'S PRAYER. 



73 



BY 21269. 



At midnig'ht, in a prison cell. 
On bended knee the convict fell. 
And poured in heaven's listinier ear 
A prayer for those he held most dear. 



Oh, God; defend my absent wife. 
Whose breakinfT heart and blig-hted life 
Spring- not from conscious sruilt within. 
But from a reckless husband's sin. 



Spare her, indulgent heaven, the blow. 
That oft has laid an ang-el low; 
Still may her ever ang-el face 
Reflect the presence of Thy grace. 



Be it well pleasing in Thy sight 
That she may rear my babes aright, 
And teach them, in the bloom of youth. 
The laws of kindness and of truth. 



Help me discharge, on every hand. 
The duties right and law demand; 
And may I live to dwell once more 
Honored among the friend* of vorc 




PRISON POETRY. 
WINE VS. WATER. 



There stood two g-lasses, filled to the brini. 
On a rich man's table, rim to rim. 
One was ruddy and red as blood. 
And one as clear as the crvstal flood. 



Said the g'lass of wine to the paler brother: 

" Let us tell the tales of the past to each other. 

T can tell of banquet, revel and mirth. 

And the proudest and jrrandest souls on earth 

Fell under my touch as thoug'h struck by bligrht,. 

Where I was a king", for I ruled in nig-ht. 

From the heads of kings I have torn the crown; 

From the heig-hts of fame I have hurled men down. 

I liave blasted many an honored name; 

I have taken virtue and g'iven shame. 

I have tempted j-outh with a sip, a taste 

That has made his future a barren waste. 

Far greater than a king am I, 

Or than anj- armj- beneath the sky. 

1 have made the arm of the driver fail. 

And sent the train from the iron rail. 

I have made good ships go down at sea. 

And the shrieks of the lost were sweet to me. 

For they said, " Behold ' how great you be! " 

Fame, strength, wealth, genius before me fall. 

For my might and power are over all. 

Ho! ho! pale brother," laughed the wine, 

"Can you boast of deeds so great as mine?" 



The water said proudlv, "I cannot boast . 

f)f a king dethroned or a murdered host; 

But 1 can tell of a heart once sad, 

Bj- my crystal drops made light and glad — 

Of thirsts I 've quenched, of brows I've laved; 

Of hands I've cooled and souls I've saved; 

I 've leaped thro' the valley, daslied down the mouiilaiii. 

Formed beautiful rivers and played in fountain, 

Slept in the sunshine and dropped from the sky 

And everywhere gladdened the landscape and eye. 

I 've eased the Iiot forehead of fever and pain. 



PRISON POETKV. j^ 

V\v made the parched meadows fjrrow tVililo willi yiaiii : 

I can lell of the powerful wheel of the mill 

That g-round out flower and turned at my will; 

I can tell of nianlKiod, debased by yoti. 

That I lifted up and crowned anew. 

I cheer, I help, 1 strenyahen and aid: 

I jrladdeu the heart of man and maid; 

I set your close-chained captive free 

And all are better for knowinjr me." 

These are the tales tliey told each other— 
The }rlass of wine and its paler brother— 
As they sat tofrether, filled to the brim. 
On the rich man's table, rim to rim. 



THE FALL OF SODOM. 



Thou sin-cursed city of the stricken plain. 

Whose heinous lust all after time shall shame, 

'T was thine to rouse Jehovah's awful ire, 

And test the streng'th of Heaven's reven<^eful fire. 

Thy senseless lust and crime had spread 

Till virtue, hope and shame had tied: 

Oeji-raded youth and totterinjir ajre 

Could not appease thy senseless ra^'^e; 

Thy leacherous sons, that roamed at nijrlil. 

Were human only to the sig'ht: 

Their motto was hell's direst fruit: 

" Debase the man, exhalt the brute ! " 

One man alone of all thy teeming' millions sate. 

And pondered on thy sin with deathless hate: 

His riofhteous soul was vexed from day to day. 

And strove in vain to turn you from your way. 

He dwelt among- you as a child of God, 

And in the path of honored wedlock trod. 

Yoii, dead to nature and to nature's voice. 

Spurned woman and made man your choice 1 

And desecrated, with your impious lust. 

The masterpiece God had formed from dust I 

Till woman, shorn of all her natural power. 

Was cast aside, like some discarded (lower. 



PRISON POETRY. 

And stormed insulted heaven witli hourlj- cr.v. 
Till God beheld you with His searching ej'e. 
And sent His angels in aveng-ing- haste 
Your sill to punish and your land to waste. 
The son of Horan met these at the gate. 
And begged them at his frugal board to wait; 
At first refused, they after turn aside. 
And "neath a righteous roof content abide. 
They share his food and list with eager ear 
As Lot recounts each nightly scene of fear; 
When lust runs riot in the open streets, 
And man with man in strange communion meets. 
The men of Sodom learn, with kindling eye. 
The stranger's presence, and in haste draw nigh. 
Men, young and old, with equal ardor burn, 
And, with unholy lust, towards these strangers yearn. 
They call the patriarch with an angry shout, 
And bid him bring the hallowed strangers out. 
That they may satisfy their lawless lust 
And trample decency in sinful dust. 
He, taught from infancy in Mosaic Law, 
Regarded heaven's High Ruler still with awe; 
And shuddered with indignant fear 
As these vile shouts assailed his ear. 
He left his house and closed the door behind. 
And to the rabble thus he eased his mind: 
" Ye men of Sodom ! once in life do right, 
Nor do this wickedness in heaven's sight! 
Two virgin daughters 'neath my roof reside, 
Till now a father's care and mother's jjride; 
Take them and do whatever you deem right, 
•But lay no impious hand upon my guests tonight. 
The laws of hospitality, by Moses taught, 
Harms not a stranger whom our roof has sought. 
They know the law, who now reside within, 
And with horror view jour awful sin ! " 
•'Ye men of Sodom I who this stranger gave 
The right to judge us and our will to brave V 
We kindly took a homeless wanderer in. 
And dare he brand our greatest pleasure sin ? 
Shall empty words defy our proud behest, 
Or useless offering prevent our guest? 
Ten thousand 'No's' will pierce his dastard breast. 
And treat him tenfold worse than all the rest!" 



PRISON POETRY. 

Thus spake their leader, and with aii.trry roar 

The o'er wrouffht friends assail the door; 

Lot, backward hurled, could hardly stand, 

Till snatched within by aufrel hand. 

The maddened crowd no lonyer wail,* 

But headlong- rush to meet their fate! 

The ready ang'els rise, with g^odlike mind, 

And strike the guilty wretches blind; 

In vain thej- strive to reach and force the door. 

Their useless orbs are blasted evermore! 

" tio seek thj' children. Lot, in eag-er haste. 

And bid them not a precious moment waste. 

<iod will destroy this sin-accursed place. 

And wipe from earth its faintest trace! " 

Lot, thus commanded, found each one that nig^ht. 

And "faithfully portrajed their awful plig^ht; 

But he, to them, seemed as a man that mocked. 

And left them sorely grieved and doubly shocked. 

The morn arose! The angels cautioned Lot 

To wife and daughters take and tarrv not; 

And as they ling'ered took them by the hand 

And led them from the endang-ered land. 

" Flee to the mountains and no hind'rance brook, 

Nor backward turn a long-, admiring' look. 

The wi"etch who dares this mandate to defy 

Shall, 'neath Jehovah's hand, in torture die! " 

This stern command was heard by trembling- Lot 

M'^ith deep repug-nance, for it pleased him not. 

■'Nay, nay, my lord; but if before th_v face 

Th3- trembling; servant dares to plead for grace. 

Command me that I now maj- turn aside 

.\nd in your little city safe reside. 

Thus may I keep my soul alive this day 

Nor after fall to mountain beasts a prey." 

The heavenly strang-ers, with an aug-ust nod, 

Ag-ree to lift from Zoar Jehovah's rod. 

The rescued quartette Zoarward bend. 

While hope and fear alternate tend. 

With mien majestic, jes, with hasty tiead, 

Their trembling- flig-ht their ag-ed father led. 

Next came the virg-ins, able scarce to stand. 

And followed by their mother, last of all the band. 

She yet to Sodom and its idols clave, 

An(\ dared Jehovah's awful wrath to brave; 



77 



78 PRISON POETRY. 

One look she sought, her weary journey to beji^uile. 
And in a moment stood transfixed — a Sa//y Pile ! 
The more obedient trio onward fly. 
Until the opening- srates of Zoar g-reet the eye. 
Now, with full hearts, they reach the calm retreat. 
And cordial welcome from King- Bela meet. 

END OF FIRST CANTO. 



THE FALL OF SODOM— CANTO SECOND. 

From Bera's palace, and from Sodom's shrine, 

A thousand scintillating raj's of beauty shine; 

The gorgeous parapets of beaten burnished gold 

Enlightened fancy can with awe behold. 

Those marble walls of rainbow-tinted hue. 

Please and instruct and 3et astound the view. 

Each curve of beauty and each line of grace 

Relates some annal of the ancient place. 

Upon these sculptured walls each Sodomite may traci 

The birthplace and the lineage of his entire race. 

He here ma3' read, in many a flowing line. 

The maiden efforts of the Tuneful Nine, 

Who first appeared and strung the quivering lyre. 

When new created stars their Maker's praise aspire: 

Theirs is the music of the quick revolving spheres. 

And theirs the power to bathe a world in tears. 

They paint in colors, dipped in liquid truth. 

The brow of beautj- and the lip of youth. 

Thought, tame in prose in their enchanting line. 

Is dressed in beaut3' and is half divine. 

The3' wing love's arrows with consumate art, 

And make the melting music of the heart. 

Youth they instruct and tottering age sustain, 

Virtue exalt and hideous voice restrain. 

Inside this palace life is but a dream 

Of beauty, flowing in a constant stream. 

Here silken curtains hang on wires of gold. 

And zephyr-satin, whose capacious fold 

Ten thousand gtddj- turns and windings take 

The secret chambers of the place to make. 

Each article of comfort man can know 

With priceless gems and flashing colors glow; 



PRISON POETRY. 

Each drinking' vessel is a solid g'em; 

P2ach odorous flower grows on a parent stem; 

Hirds of brig-ht pluniag-e raise their tuneful note 

And scatter scents ambrosial as they float. 

The crystal fountains jfenerous wine dispense, 

And food delicious satisfies the sense; 

The air is balmy as the breath of spring', 

And everj- atom is a beauteous thing-. 

One thing- alone this mig-hty place appalls: 

No woman dwells within these sculptured walls. 

Here man with man in lustful caprice plays. 

And Heaven's rig-hteous mandate disobeys; 

Sinks, through his lusl, below the groveling- beast. 

Who to the female makes his amorous suit. 

Within those walls are stores of untold wealth, 

Secured by carnage and b3- midnig-ht stealth; 

Beneath each divan and each downy couch 

The smouldering fires of retribution crouch. 

Each glittering tankard and each costly plate 

Reflects the fierceness of each pending fate. 

The quenchless tortures of Jehovah's wrath 

Is earthward tending in a destined path ! 

The brilliant sun of light, the mightj' sire, 

Seems bathed in blood and heaven 's all afire. 

From pole to pole the livid lightnings flash 

Till all creation trembles 'neath the crash; 

And earthward, still, the melting heavens bend, 

While blinding floods of hissing flames descend. 

And seas of lava, with three mighty bounds. 

The now doomed city and the plain surrounds. 

Now, inward flowing, rolls the mighty tide, 

On whose dread billows death alone can ride; 

And upward rising, with tremendous sweep. 

Its molten billows awful union keep 

With floods descending from the flaming sk3-. 

And Sodom knows her hour has come to die! 

Her frightened millions in a circle band. 

And view approaching death on every hand. 

Around them rolls a sea of fire; 

Above them flames the torch of Heaven's ire; 

While hissing lava, in descending rain. 

Creates new horror and gives birth to pain. 

Each gorgeous palace and each mart of trade 

Is buried for their wickedness and in ashes laid. 



79 



So 



PRISON POETRY, 



In vain they call their idols, name by name. 
Their {garments all are wrapt in livinw Hame, 
Tlieir quiveringr bodies tortured to the bone, 
Their parched lips in vain assay a moan. 
Their eyes still pleading- with each bated breath 
Not for forgiveness, but for instant death! 

The circling oceans, with resounding' roar. 
Meet and commingle — and the scene is o'erl 




PRISON POETRY. Si 

A TRIBUTE TO 
THE WOLFE SISTERS. 



Music, the sweetest all-i aspiring' gift of God. 

Is ever welcome to the prisoner's ear; 
There's nothing makes me feel half so well 

As music of the heart when suuir with cheer. 

Here in this prison as I sit and pore 

Over the past and present of my life. 
My heart sings ever, o'er and o'er, 

The darkest bitterness of a prisoner's strife. 

But hark I in yonder chapel shrine 

I hear sweet music as of \-ore; 
I ask, " What music is that sounds so fine?" 

The answer comes, " The Wolfes are at the door!" 

I hasten, then, to brush my prison garb, 
And toilet trj- to fix as best I can, 
And then unto the chapel wend mj- way; 
When there upon the rostrum stand 

J^h'c of the sweetest singers of on? day .' 

There's Amj- Wolfe, who changed her name to Brooks; 
She leads her choir without the aid of books. 
She sings with voice so sweet and delicate 
That to her. First Soprano I dedicate. 

Ne.xt, Minnie S., at the age of twent3--three. 

Sings like a lark and busj- as a bee. 

Carefully guarding that no mistakes are made. 

And handles her bewitching voice with harmony well staid. 

Then sang the sweet Zorajdo F., with baritone most clear. 
Who, at the age of twentj-, delights to bring us cheer. 
It seems as if her heart and soul were bent on doing right. 
And when she sang she sang so sweet — Oh! it was out of sight. 



82 PRISON POETRY. 

The next I saw was Lyda M., with scarlet cheeks ag-low; 
She sings with voice most charming-, a clear and sweet alto, 
She's next the j-ounger of them all, because she's just eighteen, 
She captivates the heart of man — what a fairy little Queen ! 

Then last, not least, the little one, that is. Miss Kittie C, 
She just so busy when she sings she's like a honey bee. 
Her eyes are clear as crystal, her locks are flowing gold. 
She sings soprano quite as fine as any I have told. 

I sat down in an enipt_v seat close by the outside door. 
And listened to such warbling- as I never heard before. 
Their voices drowned all sorrow and gushed forth many a tear, 
Xot for horror that 1 felt — it brought me real good cheer. 

The^- drove away the pain of woe, that none but prisoners smart; 
They sang the ever blessed song — true music of the heart. 
We doff our striped caps to you, O girls of sweetest song. 
And may we bid 30U be our friends and return again ere long. 

Adieu, adieu, our lad3- friends, do not now saj' "farewell," 
Because we wish you all return with song too sweet to tell. 
Come back! come back again and sing some lovelj- Sabbath day. 
For your presence here to sing good cheer we all will ever pray. 

And now unto the aged Wolfes please let me say one word: 
Your home must be a palace filled with sirenic good; 
Proud maj' j'ou feel — and justl3-,too — of these five daughters fair. 
And great the good they've done for us while in this prison lair. 

Tliere's but one wish tl'.at emanates from a prisoner's wicked 

heart. 
That is to say, without delay, *' May heaven take their part. 
And to them bring eternal joy that '11 pierce them like a dart!" 
Each song thej- sing is welcome here — a masterpiece of art I 

And now to part we sadly must (while I 'm immersed in prison 

dust). 
But hoping, too, 'twill not ) o long ere you return with sweetest 

song. Adieu! Adieu! 



PRISON POETRY. 

PRISONERS. 



God pity the wretched prisoners 
In their lonely cells today; 

Whatever the sins that tripped them, 
God pity them still. I say. 



Only a strip of sunshine 
Cleft by rusty bars; 

Only a patch of azure, 
Onlv a cluster of stars. 



Once they were little children, 
And perhaps their wayward feet 

Were led bj- a g-entle mother 
Toward the g-olden street. 



Therefore, if in life's forest 
They since have lost their waj-, 

Whatever the sins that tripped them, 
God pit.v them still, I say. 



84 PRISON POETRY. 

TV^O LETTERS. 



JiY GEO. W. H. HARRISON. 



I wrote a letter while jealous rag-e 
In my bosom reigned supreme; 

The words were fraught with ang-er. 
And a loathsome disesteem. 

The_v fell on the pu'-e white paper 
And marred its stainless page, 

Yet eased my maddened spirit. 
And appeased my senseless rage. 

I gloatingly tlio't of the dumb despair 

That letter would surelj' give. 
To one who had broken her faithful vows 
•In a way I could never forgive. 

I doubted not the perfect truth 

Of all I heard them saj-; 
She, like other girls, was false 

While her lover was away. 

I knew she vowed she wouid be true 

While life itself would last. 
Yet thought that she, like others. 

Too soon forgot the past. 

I hastily sealed the cruel note. 

And placed it next my heart. 
Determined upon the morrow 

To give it an earl.v start. 

1 threw myself upon the couch 

And sought for sweet repose. 
And in my restless slumbers 

A vision then arose: 

I saw in that terrible vision 
A woman whose eager face 



PRISON POETRY. 85 

Beamed with j-earning-, restless love 
As her trembling- fing-ers traced 

A messag-e of love and tenderness 

To her loved one far awaj'. 
As her pure lips quietl3- murmured, 

" God g-rant we must some daj-I" 

She sealed her letter with dainty hands. 

And laid it by with tender care; 
Then humbly kneeled beside her bed, 

And poured her soul in prajer. 

She prayed for her impassioned lover 

In a warm, impassioned strain, 
That proved her heart both warm and true 

And free from g^uilt or slain. 

She arose from her kneeling posture. 

To answer a call at her door; 
She smiled as she saw the letter 

The hand of the servant bore. 

One glance she gave — then burst the seal 

With trembling, eager haste. 
And rapidly heard the cruel words 

My reckless hand had traced. 

Her lovely face turned death l.y pale 

As she wildl3' clutched the air. 
She tottered and fell — a senseless heap — 

A pre3' to dumb despair. 

So still she lay I deemed her dead, 

And sprang to raise her in m3- arms. 
I loved her with the old, wild love. 

And bowed to her peerless charms. 

"Speak! darling, speak!" I wildU' cried. 

"Prav", come back from the voiceless shore. 
I cannot, dare not live an hour. 

Unless I hear 3'our voice once more!" 



86 PRISON POETRY. 

She opened wide her lovely eyes, 
And cast on me one linereriug' g-lance 

So full of injured innocence 
It smote me like a lance. 

I seized the heartless letter. 
Curst cause of all mj- shame. 

And, with one imprecation, 
Consig-ned it to the flame. 

She watched me with a lan.a'uid smile. 

And pointed to her heart: 
" You have destro.ved the proof," she said. 

"But can 3'ou ease the smart?" 

" I have been true to all my vows. 

Heaven jud^e me if I lie I 
But since you deem me to be false. 

Go — leave me here — to die!" 

At last I woke and quickly drew 
The accursed sheet from my breast — 

Burning- it with a ready hand — 
And g-entlj' sank to rest. 

I wrote another, whose tender words 
Were soft as the ripple of a stream; 

And thoug-ht what a contrast it would be 
To the letter she read in my dream! 

And my darling- g-reatly wonders 
Why mj' letters with tenderness teem. 

Since I have never told her 
Of the letter she read in mv dream. 




PRISON POETRY. 87 

A Prayer For justice. 



Oh. God ill heaven up on hi.a-h. 
How Ions' this cruel strife? 
Must I but perish in this den 
To end this wretched life? 
Is there no justice here on earth ? 
Must truth remain crushed down 
And vile and wicked, cruel man 
Forever look and frown ? 
Is there no power to bring' to lisrht 
The /; ui/i of mj- offense? 
Must perjury and bribery 
Prevail forever hence? 
Can enemies, vile, cruel thing's, 
' Twist truth all out of shape, 
And cause one who 's not g'uiltv 
To morallj- wear death's crepe ? 
Oh, God ! is there no remedy 
For earthly subjects thus 
To be relieved from wretched pain 
Without this earthly fuss? 
Oh, God ! to Thee we call for help. 
Wil't thou but listen— hear? 
Look down upon me as I be, 
Mj- innocence thou 'It surely see. 
These shackles, bolts, and prison bars 
The heavy locks and massive key — 
Hear, Oh, God! Oh, hear my prayer 
And set this captive free. 




88 prison poetry. 

Birthday Musings. 



BV G. W. VAX WEIGHS. 



Jnst sixtA' 3-ears ago today 

Mine ejes first saw the lig'lit; 
Now ag-e, with ever onward tread, 

Presaores coming' night. 

Ah! is it night? Or shall it be 
That morning's light shall break. 

And from my soul such music bring 
As earth could never wake? 

Where are the friends of earlier jears — 

Sleep they to wake no more ? 
Or do they walk with joyful tread 

Heaven's ever radiant shore ? 

If death is but oblivion's gate, 

Wlij- younger grows the soul with years ' 
Whose are the faces that we see 

When melts the hearts in tears ? 

Oh, whence the strains the soul can hear 

When all is hushed in sleep. 
And none, save God and angels, near 

When souls their vigils keep? 

Is all religion but a myth ? 

Are all our hopes in vain? 
Is heaven affectation's child. 

Born of disordered brain ? 

Tell me not such bolts and bars 

Can keep me from the skies; 
I 'd sooner deem yon blushing rose 

A satyr in disguise. 



PRISON POETRY. 89 

A TRIBUTE TO 
THE WOLFE SISTERS 



BY GEO. \V. H. HAKKI.SON. 



Come, O come, ye radiant sisters, heaven nomered "Tunefr.l 

Nine," 
Snn>otli my ever ruL^jred numbers and inspire my droopin;^ line. 
Aid my muse to tell the storj, never breathed to mortal ear, 
How this sweet angelic chorus happens to be linjrering- near. 
In yon fair and blissful aiden, far beyond the faintest star. 
Once the g'uardian angels slumbered, leaving heaven's gates ajar I 
And five wandering seraphs wandered, in their rapid, noiseless 

flight. 
Thro" the gates, whose vaulted arches echoed pagans of delight I 
Quick as thought their tireless pinions clave the unresisting air, 
Till they reached the five Wolfe sisters, maids of form and fea- 
tures fair. 
And within these hearts they lingered, tuning every chord to 

song. 
Till the pathos of their music stilled the ever restless throng I 
Earth and heaven stood astonished and Jehovah's love decreed: 
"Let them stay I such strains seraphic mortal beings can but 
heed '." 

Have you heard their wondrous music? Have you felt their 

sweet control ? 
If npt, friend, you "ve scarcely sounded half the mysteries of 

your soul I 
Amy, soul-enrapturing artist, sweetly sounds the soft prelude, 
And beneath her skilfull fingers every note, with life imbued. 
Stills the throng, whose very silence is an encore loud and deep. 
And each thought, save that of music, is forgotten or asleep. 
Katherine's rich and full suprano, like the Autumn's mellow 

morn. 
Wakes the slumbering soul to action like the practiced hunts- 
man's horn I 
Mamie's soft, melodious voice nobly takes the second part. 
And the pathos of her music captivates the raptured heart! 
Lida's faultless second alto deepens all the noble strain 
Till the mind forgets its madness and the heart rejects in pain. 



QO PRISON POETRY. 

Then Zora3-do'.s matchless voice sweeps the soul along- 

Till we know that perfect music can be breathed in earthly song .' 

Hear, O hear the melting music pouring' from each heaving- 

breast; 
How it wakes the heart to rapture! How it soothes the soul to 

rest! 

When they sing-, such lovely visions seem to rise and grandly 

float 
Like the poet's airy mansions, on the wave of each full note! 
Silvery daybreaks brighten slow; sunsets blush on mountain 

snow! 
Moonlight shivers on the open sea; Autumn burns in bush and 

tree; 
Blowing willows bend and sigh; whispering rivers wander hy; 
Thro' the pines sweep sea-tones soft; sailing birds shout loud 

aloft; 
Strange notes beat the lambent air; visions float divinelj- fair; 
Vanished faces come and go; silenced voices murmur low; 
Gentlest memories come and cling, as ive listen and they sing. 

Oh, repeat the music's tale, " Love shall perish not nor fail r'' 
We forget the fear of death — breathe, in tho't, immortal breath! 
We believe in broadening truth; trust the generous creeds of 

youth; 
Feel consoling hopes that climb up to some triumphant clime. 
And sweet dreams of splendor bring as 7ue listen and they sing ! 

Walls of rock and bars of steel we can neither see nor feel; 

We forget our dire disgrace; disregard both time and place; 

Bid all angry passion sleep and profoundest silence keep! 

Hoard the trembling notes that fall like an angel mother's call; 

Rise above our low estate and forget the wrongs of fate! 

We forgive our mortal foes, source of all our many woes. 

And penance itself loses half its sting, as rtr listen and they sing! 

May the God of love and truth give them all the joj-s of youth; 
Maj- the raptures they impart ever thrill each noble heart; 
May their ministr3- of love lead all erring ones above; 
May wealth, happiness and joy all their waiting hours employ; 
Be their cares both light and few and their pleasures ever new; 
And their lives one dream of ease till their " ship comes o'er the 
seas!" 



PRISON POETRY. 



91 



Let fate oft their presence bring-, and we'll listen while they sing .' 
Gentle sisters, take this tribute poured from imprisoned hearts; 
You have eased their maddening' torture, you have stayed the 

cruel darts • 

That remorse and shame have driven deep witliin each captive 

soul. 
Suffer them your names to g-raven on fond memory's deathless 

scroll; 
Be assured your seeds of kindness shall not fall on stony ground. 
Many of your willing converts have both peace and pardon 

found! 
And, when all your work is ended, xo\x in lieaven shall fondly 

greet 
Some whose hearts were first enlightened by your anthems clear 

and sweet. 



TO A DEPARTED IDOL. 



BY G. W. VAN WEIGHS. 



Thou art not dead, thou art not g-one to dust, 
No line of all thy loveliness shall fall 

To formless ruin, smote hy time and thrust 
Into the solemn gulf that covers all. 

Thou canst not perish. Tho' the sod 
Sink with its violets closer to thy breast, 

Tho' by the feet of generations trod 
The loadstone crumbles from thy place of rest. 

The marvel of thy beauty cannot die; 

The sweetness of th3- presence shall not fade; 
Earth gave not all the glory of thine 63-6; 

Death cannot smite what earth ne'er made. 

It was not thine, that marble forehead pale and cold. 
Nor those dumb lips the.v laid beneath the snow; 

Thy heart would throb beneath that passive fold; 
Thy hands, for me, that stony clasp forego. 



PRISON POETRY. 

But tlion hast icroiie. Gone fnini this di"ear3' land; 

Gone from the storms let loose on every hill; 
Lured bj' the sweet pursuasion of a band 

That leads thee, somewhere, in the distance still. 

• 

Where e'er thou art, I know thou wearest 3'et 
The same bewitching- beauty, saxictified 

By calmer joj', and touched with soft reyret 
For him who seeks but cann<jt reach th3' side. 

I keep for thee the living- love of old. 
And seek thy place in nature, as a child 

Whose hand is parted from its playmate's hold 
Wanders and cries along a lonesome wild. 

When, in the watches of my heart, I hear 
The messages of purer life and know 

The footsteps of thy spirit ling-erintj near, 
Life's darkness hides the wa3- I fain would go. 

Canst thou not bid the empty realms restore 
That form, the symbol of thv heavenly part? 

Or in the barren lields of silence pour 
That voice, the perfect music of tli\- heart ? 

Oh, once — once bending- to my warm and eager lips. 
Take back the tender warmth of life from me, 

Or let th\' kisses cloud with swift eclipse 
The light of mine, and give me death with thee. 




PRISON POETRY. 93 

ACROSTIC To WARDEN AND MRS. E G. COFFIN. 



XHjah of old ancient times was a inan of many, manj- minds! 
Juong did he live in noble deeds, in dealing- comfort to men's 

needs. 
J. n these, our modern, nuxlest days, all men have greatly changed 

their ways — 
lehovah's laws do not control the wickedness of every soul. 
^11 those who know as well as I while on this earth will not 

decry 
tie who will bad men reform — Hail, Coffin I who for us was bornl 



i^odfrey is his second name, and now he reaps most enviable 

fame: 
Xlnr watchword is both daj- and nig-hts — while o'er him floats the 

Stars and Stripes — 
" Xio unto us as you would choose, that others do to you and 

yours! " 
J'aithful to her life-lontr trust, a wife, a mother, true and just, 
^^esolves to help both maid and man and lend an ever heipin.sr 

hand — 
^ach day and night thej- toil and pray for boys and yitls to 

mend their waj-, 
J ft thej- do not toil all in vain for the g-reat tfood done the 

human train. 



" Ljoffin " is a word some sliun, for it takes man when on earth 

he's done 
jijut to the churchyard laid in cla\-, for ag-es sanctioned such a 

way. 
;l'or us poor sinners here in "hell" a Coffin sent makes us feel 

well. 



94 



PRISON POETRY. 



"Jl'or often he does ease the pains we feel in both our hearts and 

brains. 
Xn endless joy may the3' have peace for kindness they have done 

to us — 
Jiiot one of us, though cursed with sin, will e'er forjret our friends 

Coffin. 



CANTO SECOND---LAST, BUT NOT LEASTI 



Jil[istress she is of the Coffin shrine, and so it's been for 3-ears of 

time! 
Xti holy wedlock girls and bojs have been the idols of their joj-sl 
^he bids her Lord Elijah bide a faithful servant by her side, 
'|io aid her with a helping hand to raise poor, wretched, fallen 

man. 
)ajeal sympathy for the prisoner's woe, she seeds of comfort tries 

to sow 
'Jiire long before it is too late to save poor sinner from his fate; 
^he "cookies" make, with pearls all set, and puts them in 

Elijah's hat, 
iihe then does send him on his wav, while for the prisoner she 

does praj-. 



^fary silentU- did keep the watch o'er Christ while he did sU ep; 
^11 her protege she will save if her Lord will help her brave 
f^oaring storms of vice and ire, kindled by a vengeful fire! 
"^ou may guess for all the rest, let me say she 'll do hek best! 



floffins, to .vou let us turn! and all crime forever spurn! 
^Jnlv aid us in this strife to fight manfully for life. 



PRISON POETRY. 



95 



J/ather Elijah'. Mother Mary I for our welfare do not tarry! 
J/ear you not! for the jrood you've done has .saved many a fallen 

one! 
Xn our hearts we oft despair as we ling-er in this lair — 

^Vot for long- tho' when we've seen— Father Elijah and Mary, 
his Qitetii ! 



A PRISON Vision. 



BY GEO. W. H. HAKKISON. 



'Tis midnijErht in these pri-son walls, 
And even the sentry's muflfled tread 

Sepulchral sounds, as if he trod 
The silent confines of the dead. 



In vain I close my weary ej-es, 

I cannot sleep tonig-ht; 
I hear an angrel's rustling wings 

Fresh from the realms of light. 



A sacred presence haunts the air, 
A messenger from Heaven's own land: 

And memor3- awakes again, 
Touched by an angel's wand. 



1 seem to hear, deep in my soul, 
The music of a heavenly choir, 

While each pulsation of my heart 
Awakes in me the old desire 



To see once more that lovely form 
Death vanished in my arms; 

To hear again her melting voice 
And revel in her charms. 



96 



PRISON POETRY. 



To feel the tender, soft caress 
Of a loved tho' vanished hand, 

And hear from her departed lips 
The mysteries of that land 



That lies bej-ond Time's rug-gred shore. 
To all unknown, save those 

Whom ang-els capture for the skies 
At life's uncertain close. 



1 muse a^ain, with loviiiiLr Ibougrht, 
Of a sinless wife long' dead, 

And live ag-ain our buried past. 
By an ang'el presence led. 



I view ag-ain the pleasing- scene 
Of a school house on the hill. 

Where happy scholars daily met. 
Whose law was the teacher's will. 



I see ag-ain the old armchair 
Where the Master dail.v sat 

With watchful eye and helpful hand. 
Yet sleepless as a cat. 



I hear ag-ain the sleepless hum 
Of voices low and sweet, 

Of students pouring- o'er the books 
With wisdom's g-erms replete. 



Amid that happy, g-uileless throng-. 
There was one peerless face 

That held in the Master's tender heart 
An undisputed place. 

It was a face, O God! how fair! 
No words can ever paint; 



PRISON POETRY. 



More fit for heaven than for earth. 
It bore the contour of a saint. 



The brow was hifrh and broad and white, 

With a radiance all its own; 
The cheeks, like lilies dipped in blood. 

Were oft as a rose full blown. 



Eyebrows dark and delicately arched. 
Were penciled in Nature's play; 

The ruby ripeness of her lips 
Seemed never to melt awav. 



Her lustrous ej'es, whose depths were brown, 

Yet seemed a darker hue. 
Were windows of a spotless soul 

That scorned to be untrue. 



Abundant tresses of dark brown hair 
That almost swept the ground. 

Enveloped as chaste and lovely form 
As e'er on earth was found. 



A voice so soft, so sweet, so low 
That every accent woke 

Sweet notes of blissful melody. 
As if an an^el spoke. 



None could look upon that face 
And deem that aug-ht of earth 

Could chill the rapture of a sf)ul 
Where sin could know no birth. 



Her mind had wondrous power and scope; 

It grasped the sea, the earth, the sky. 
And rightly understood and loved 

The God who ruled on high. 



97 



PKISON POETRY. 

Contentmenl, truth and virtue 
Was part of Nature's dower; 

Self-sacrifice to her was jo3-, 
And praj'er was conscious power- 



While yet a child her spirit soared 
Above the thing-s of earth, 

And mused with soulful tenderness 
On the heaven that gave it birth. 



The teacher's stern, imperious heart 
Yearning'ly worshipped this child. 

And 'neath her hallowed influence 
Grew tender, warm and mild. 



The haug-hty heart, that never sought 

The plaudits of the world. 
Poured its richest tribute 

At the feet of this faultless girl. 



The face, that never even blanched 

'mid war's terrific strife. 
Grew pale as death the hour he asked 

This child to be his wife. 



No word slie spake, but simply laid 
Her head upon his breast. 

He folded her in warm embrace 
And kMew that he was blest. 



Each lived a life of conscious joy; 

Earth seemed a garden fair; 
The lover sought earth's fairest flowers 

To braid in her shining hair. 



Deeply thej- drank at the font of love; 
Draughts few natures can hold; 



PRISON POETRY. 

The hours were seasons of perfect bliss; 
Each moment more precious than fjold. 



Dajs and months flew swiftly by 
On the win<rs of happiness sped. 

And two sweet babes were g-arnered 
As the fruit of their marriage bed! 



Tliej- neither thoug'ht nor dreamed of auyhl 
Save their babes and coming bliss; 

Thej- greeted the morn with soft caress 
And welcomed nifflit with a kiss. 



Till, thundering- on the wings of Time, 

Fate dealt the cruel blow 
That dashed a home in pieces 

And laid a child-wife low. 



The husband pressed her to his breast 
And fondly kissed his bride; 

But with the parting of that kiss 
The sinless child-wife died. 



The kindred angels joyful flew 
From the realms of endless day, 

And gentlj- wafted her soul above. 
But left to us her clav. 



" She is dead ! Kiss her and come away. 

Your cries and prayers are all in vain, 
Your May-Bell is cold, senseless claj-; 

In heaven above j-ou"ll meet again. 



The}- smoothed her tresses of dark brown hair 
Back from her marble forehead fair; 

Over her eyes, that oped too much, 
Thev closed the lids with a tender touch. 



99 



lOO PKISON POETRy. 

They closed with lender touch, that day. 
The thin, pale lips where beauty la_y; 
Atout her brow and her sweet pale face 
They tied her veil and bridal lace; 



Placed on her feet the white silk shoes 
That May-Bell for her marriag-e chose; 
Over her bosom crossed her hands; 
"Come away," they said, " God understands 



With bowed heads they left the room. 
Still shuddering- at its silent g-loom; 
And naught, save silence, ling-ered there 
Around the corpse of May -Bell Clare. 



But I loved her far too well to dread 
The silent, stately, beautiful dead. 
I cautiously opened the chamber door 
And was alone with iny dead once more. 



I kissed her lips, I kissed her cheek. 
But 't was in vain, she could not speak. 
I called her names, she loved, awhile. 
But she was dead and could not smile. 



And not one passionate whisper of love 
Could call her back from her home above. 
"Cold lips," I murmured, "breast without breath. 
Is there no voice, no langruage in death?" 



Dull to ear and still to the sense. 
Yet to the soul of love intense! 
See, I listen with soul, not ear; 
What is the secret of dying-, my dear'. 



Was it the infinite wonder of all 
That vou could let lif<'"s flower fall? 



PKISON POETRY. 



Or was it a fjreater marvel to feel 
The perfect calm o'er atrony steal ? 



Was the miracle frreatest to Hiul how deep 
Beyond all dreams sank down that sleep? 
Did life roll back its record, my dear. 
Showing' all past de«ds dark and clear? 



Oh, did love, sweet mistress of bliss. 
Affrighted, vanish to shun death's kiss? 
For radiant ones in the world above 
Forjret those whom on earth they love ? 



Oh, perfect death 1 Oh, dead most dear, 
I hold the breath of my soul to hear! 
I listen as deep as fathomless hell, 
As high as heaven, nor will vou tell! 



There must be pleasure in dying, my sweet, 
To make you so placid from head to feet ! 
I'd tell j'ou, darling, if I were dead 
And voii}- hot tears on mv cheeks shed. 



I'd speak, though the angel of death had laid 
His sword on my lips, their accents to shade. 
Xot in vain should 3'ou, with streaming eyes. 
Beg to know Death's chief surpri.se. 



Oh, foolish world! Oh, precious dead! 

Tho' you tell me, who will believe 't was said' 

Who will believe I heard you say 

In your own dear, kind familiar way: 



■' I can speak now — you listen with soul alont 
To the eyes of your soul all shall be shown. 
In this land of infinite bliss 
The utmost wonder, dear one, is this: 



PRISON POETRY. 

" I see and love and kiss von ag-ain; 
I smile at your triumph over pain; 
I know your heart is honest and true: 
I'm a g-uardian ang^el to you I 



" What a strang^e, delicious amusement is death! 
To live without being-, to breathe without breath! 
I should laugh did you not cr3-; 
Listen, dear one, love never can die I 



" I am now your heaven-decked bride: 
My bodj^ and not my love has died ! 
Dear one, it lies there, I know. 
Pale and silent, cold as snow. 



"And 30U sav, ' May -Bell is dead.' 

Weeping o'er m.v silent head ! 

/ can see your falling tears. 

Hear j-our sighs and know jour fears! 



" Yet I smile and whisper this: 
I am not the clay you kiss: 
Cease your tears and let // lie. 
It was mine, but 't is not /.' 



" Dear one, what the women love 
For its silent home, the grave. 
Is a garment I have quit. 
As a tent no long-er fit. 



" 'T is a cag-e from which, at last, 
M3- enraptured soul has passed. 
Love the inmate, not the room. 
Love the wearer, not the plume .' 



" Love my spirit, not the bars. 

That kept your May -Bell from the stars; 



PKISON POETRY. 

Be wise, dear one, and (juickly dry 
FiDm everj' tear your laden eye. 



*■■ What you place upon the bier 
Is not worth a lover's tear; 
^T is an empty shell at last. 
Out of which the soul has passed. 



" The shell is broken, it lies there. 
But the peatl^ the soul, is here ! 
'T is an earthen jar, whose lid 
<lod sealed when it faintly hid 



*' The soul He made to live on hig-h; 
The mind that did not, cannot die. 
Let the dross be earth's once more, 
Since the jifold is in His store. 



"God is g'loriousj God is groodl 
Now His word is understood! 
Life's ceaseless wonder is at an end. 
Yet you weep, mj- erring- friend I 



'' See, the lover you call dead 

To immortal bliss is wed I 

Loves and homes 3'ou lost, 't is true, 

To such light as shines for jou. 



" Yet deep in your inmost soul 
You shall feel my sweet control. 
I '11 he with you every hour. 
Commissioned by Almiglity Power, 



"To guard each moment of your life 
As best befits 3-our angel wife! 
At night I '11 linger 'round jour bed, 
With an angel's noiseless tread; 



103 



104 PKISON POETRV. 

"And while .vou, slumbering, dream of me, 
1 "11 be present, love, with thee. 
Where e'er vou g'o, where e'er jou stra3', 
I '11 be near thee nig-ht and day. 



"(iuardinjr you with zealous care. 
Pointing' out life's everj- snare. 
Chasing- everj- tear awav. 
Aiding- every jo.v to stay. 



''Chide you when you g-o astray-; 
Bless 30U when you kneel to pray 
Lead 30U, with an unseen hand, 
To view the wonders of a land 



" Where Peace and Love and Perfect Joj- 
Tongue cannot name, nor peace destroy! 
Shall ever bless the happy band, 
As radiant 'round the throne thev standi 



"Once there, we 'U never part ag-ain. 
But time, and love while God shall reign. 
I cannot, dare not, saj- farewell; 
Where I am no2v .vou, too, shall dwell. 



" I am g-one before 3'our face, 
A moment's time, a little space. 
When j-ou come where I have stepped 
You '11 greatly wonder why you wept! 



" You '11 know bj- Love Eternal taught 
That Heaven is all, that earth is naught. 
I beg 3-011 not to dread sweet death; 
'T is but the first and faintest breath 



Of the life that God hath g-iven 
To fit immortal souls for heaven I 



PRISON POETRY 



Ke ceitaht, darlinir, alt seems love. 
Viewed from tile hiirlier courts above! 



■• The cares and troubles that arise 
AVill prove sweet blessingrs iu disyuise; 
They "U waft you to a home above, 
Where I 'U await 3-our coming', Love I " 



/ heard these words and fell on the breast 
Of the peerless bride that heaven had dressed. 
I yearned for those blissful reg-ions above 
With heart overflowed with passionate love. 



My peerless flower, tho* nipped in youth. 
Perennial shall bloom in the Garden of Truth! 
I see in the distance a roseleaf hand 
Beckoning- me on to that g-lorious land. 



Tho' parted on earth we '11 meet in the sky, 
AVhere bliss cannot perish, and love cannot die, 
Oh. bliss supernal! Oh, rapture complete, 
AVhen earth-sundered ones in glory shall meet. 



For j-ears and years I 've watched in vain 
To see that buried face ag^ain; 
In vain I've tried, with mortal eyes, 
To pierce the mysteries of the skies! 



Oh, sweetheart of the days of yore. 
Shall we meet on earth no more ? 
Shall I lang-uish all alone 
Without one sympathetic tone — 



One irlance of love, one word of cheer 
From eyes and lips I hold so dear? 
Oh, hearken to my piteous cries. 
Beloved one, and forsake the skies! 



105 



io6 PRISON POETRY. 

Oh, listen! Earth-born mortals, seel 
My ang-el bride has come to me I 
The self-same face — divinely fair — 
And heaven-set jewels decked her liai 



Her laug-hing- eye and g-lowing- cheek 
Eternal youth and bliss bespeak; 
M^- head is pillowed on her breast, 
My brow by her dear hands caressed ! 



The dulcet tones of her dear voice 
Bids my aching- heart rejoice; 
She folds me 'neath her dazzling- wiiiy-> 
While all the heart within me sing-s! 



Oh, list those melting- tones of love, 
More soft than note of cooing- dove I 
Oh, hear the words her dear lips speak 
•' Death, dear one, is the boon to seek I 



" False are the g-littering- g-ems of earth. 
Eternity's g-old is the g-old of worth; 
One moment in heaven is worth a life 
Spent on earth 'mid care and strife! 



" Death is but the dawn of day, 
Destroying- naug-ht save worthless clay ! 
The soul lives on in rapturous bliss 
More perfect than a virg^in kiss! 



'■ Oh, dear one, still your haunting- fears; 
The love, tho' lost, of earlier years 
Awaits your coming to the skies. 
And o'er you watch with jealous eyes. 



" Lest earth detain you till too late 
To enter heaven's wide open g-ate. 



PRISON POETRY. 



107 



Oh. tarry not on earth too long', 
Hut with nie join ininiortars sontr! ' 



She spake, and throuijh the vaulted sky, 
Beyond the reach of mortal eye, 
She wings her rapid noiseless flig'ht 
And I am left alone tonight. 



Nay, not alone; for in my soul 
I feel a new-born sweet control 
That lures me to a higher life, 
Which will please an angel wife! 



Farewell, prison blight and bars. 
Mine is a home beyond the stars. 
■Welcome, Death, at an.v hour. 
Since sin has lost her maddening powerl 




Io8 PRISON POETRY. 

ACROSTIC TRIBUTE TO 
CAPT. J. S. ACHESON. 



BY GEO. VV. H. HARRISON. 



lust consider, for one iiionieiit, all the yood this man has done, 
iiii full many a field of battle he the victor.v hath won; 
jLiwept he with victorious Sherman from Atlanta to the sea, 
^iver acting' as a soldier, from all fear and malice free; 
^^roving- true in every station, like a soldier tried and true, 
^le has earned and won the friendship of the boys who wore the 
blue! 

Alince his advent in this prison he has, with impartial mind, 
^.•lade it plain that every duty can be done and still be kind. 
An his bosom rests no malice towards a sing-le human soul; 

J is his study, niyht and morninir, all his passions to control. 
^e is willinjr every prisoner should become his honest friend, 

A^nd the prisoner's reformation he reg-ards as law'x brs/ /rt'iii/ : 
iirime, he deems is but the f ruitafje of conditions time can clianye. 
;tie would lift his fallen brother and no rule of right deranyel 
^ver ready with the welcome of a smile and word of cheer, 
Alonie may only be respected, but such men are ever dear, 
ji^i'er the path of life may Heaven scatter roses at his feet; 
Jllone will doubt that every christian shall ///.? face in heaven 
meet. 



PRISON POETRY. 



MV MOTHER. 



109 



One brijfht Sunday morn, as I sat in my coll. 

My tliouiErhts to the outside did roam; 
The sweet song's of birds, as their notes rose and fell. 

Turned my mind to my childhood's dear home. 



LonfT years they have passed since I saw that dear spot. 
But its sweet memories time can ne'er smother; 

I can never forpet that dear little cot 
And Uie sweet loving- smile of my mother. 



In sickness or pain "t was dear mother that brouK-lit 
Her sweet self and her charms to allay it; 

She learned me a praj-er and she lovinfflj- taught 
Me to kneel at her knees and to sav it. 



(iod's word she would read, and impress on my mind 
The love that's conve3-ed by that storj- 

Of the Savior, who died that millions mitrhl find 
Eternal rest in His realms of g-lorj-. 



For years she's been dead, and her low, grassy mound 
Reminds me that "neath it lies sleeping 

The dear friend of my youth, whose magic, I found. 
Could bring smiles to my face e"en when weeping. 



"T is thus the dear birds, as they jo}full3- sing 

And chirp happy calls to each other. 
Remind me that perhaps they were sent for to bring 

A message to me from my mother. 



But, alas! as I think, upon my mind there ((uickly fallf 
The thoughts of my sad degredation ; 



J PRISON POETRY. 

The strong- iron bars, and the grey, sc)nibre walls. 
Recall me to mv sad situation. 



But no more will I sin: I'll live upright for sure; 

My passions and temptations I'll smother; 
And when God calls me home to that bright shinitij 

We'll be happ.v together, dear mother. 



A MEMORIAL Ode. 



BY G. W. VAN WEIGHS. 



Again the sacred day has come 
When tears and flowers shall fall 

On the g-raves of our sleeping- heroe.s 
Who died at Liberty's call. 



And the tears we shed above them. 
As our hearts with tenderness bled. 

Is the crown of their matchless glorj- 
And earth's divinest mead. 



Their deeds on the field of battle 
Were such as a god might do, 

And the listening- angels applauded 
The work of the boys in blue. 



The flag they died defending 
Still floats above their g-rave, 

And is loved by millions of freemen, 
But never looked on bv a slave. 



The countrj' they loved and bled for. 
Still true to her sacred trust. 



PRISON POETRY. 



Will cover their names with y'lory 
And revere their hallowed dust. 



The comrades who still survive them, 
Like f^old in the furnace tried, 

Speak, with tear-dimnied lashes. 
Of the yallanl boys that died. 



These flowers will fade and perish. 

The' hallowed by each grave; 
But they will live forever 

In the hearts of the true and the brave. 



Then let this custom continue 
Till tears and flowers shall cease. 

And we shall greet the g'allant boj's 
On the shores of endless peace. 



LINES TO MY CELL. 



Oh, silent and mysterious cell. 
Could I command thy walls to tell 
The secrets they have kept so long', 
'T would be, indeed, a cheerless sony. 



A tale of crime, and tears, and pain. 
The fruit, perhaps, of frenzied brain. 
As none to crime yet ever sank 
That had not first become a crank. 



" The law of God and man def j% 
A wretch you'll live, a felon die I ' 
These words seem to haunt my br 
Perhaps it is the sad refrain 



PRISON POETRY. 

Of a song' well known to thee; 
Yet where its author now can be. 
Save thee, perhaps no one can tell. 
Thou jiTim. mysterious, silent cell. 



Thy rocky floor has felt the tread 
Of many a hapless one now dead; 
Thy walls have echoed man3- a sifrh. 
Wrung from guilt's expiring eye. 



While musing 'mid th3- walls tonight 
I seem to hear, with some affright. 
The wail of many a blighted life. 
The prayer of a despairing wife; 



A mother, weeping for her child; 
A father, grief has driven wild. 
And then — I pray thee silence keep: 
"T were best to let thy secrets sleep. 




PRISON POETRY. 113 

A TRIBUTE TO 
DR. G. A. THARP. 



BY G. W. VAN WEIGHS. 

Arise, my Muse, and tune your harji 
To ring- the praises of a Tharp; 
His cultured mind and noble soul 
Truth and virtue both control. 



Tell the world his perfect skill 

Can conquer every human ill 

That lends to science or to art, 

From shattered limb to dormant heart. 



Each pill and potion that lie makes 
Relieves your pain and health awakes; 
And should he use the surg-eon's knife. 
He never will sacrifice a life. 



His skilfull fing-ers place a band 
As gentl3- as a woman's hand; 
And not one patient needs to feel 
That he the truth will not reveal. 



The poor regard him as their friend. 
And on his bountj- oft depend; 
Well knowing- that his generous heart 
Dares to act a christian part! 



Long may this noble doctor live. 
Ease to suffering men to g-ive; 
And meet the summons to depart 
With the skill he wooes his art. 



114 



AN APPRECIATED FRIEND. 



She is a pretty little lass. 
Half hnnian, half divine; 

And for an angel she would pas 
In Heaven's lovely clime. 



Her hair is locks of flowing gold. 
Her ways are cute and wise; 

And her form is lithe and graceful. 
With pretty bright blue eyes. 



Her manners are just perfect. 
Her nature kind and true; 

She is a real philanthropist 
When charitv is due. 



She strives to cheer those sad at heart. 

And well she does succeed; 
And stays the ever painful dart 

That often fate does speed. 



How different from st) many folk 

Who frown upon the one 
Who, by some simple words he spoke. 

Caused "crime" to have been done. 



Although the cruel knife of fate 
Has made an awful wound. 

In her kind words, that come but late. 
Sweet balm for sorrow *s found. 



Oh, that this wicked, wicked world 
Could boast more such friendU- souls 

Less lives would be so sadl.v hurled 
Into a pit of earthly ghouls. 

Where nothing "s saved, but all is lost; 



PRISON POETRY. 

And where man 's cast, at any cost. 

Into a dismal, prison dell — 

A jrloomy, dreary, earthly lielK 



Come, of such friends arise and sinjr, 
Wrth thanks returned to heaven's kiny; 



SALOME'S REVENGE. 



Arise, my Muse, spread out thy winjrs 

Prepare to soar away! 
Tune up thy harp for endless joy. 

And turn nig'ht into da.v. 



<io dream of Paradise sublime 
In the old Empire State 1 

And when you "re done return t( 
Your storv to relate. 



In time g'one b\" — in daj's of yore- 
There lived, in forests wild. 

Two families of ancient stock. 
And each one had a child. 



The children of both parentage 
Were born in this countr.v; 

They amassed immensely fortunes 
In this America. 



The Waddinierton's were pure Scotch blood. 

And rai.sed one daughter fair: 
They {rave her name of Sadie, 

She 'd blue eves and frolden hair. 



Il6 PRISON POETRY. 

Her fhfeks were rich with crimson g'lou-. 

Her lips were thin and cute. 
And many an anxious lover 

She sternlv did refute. 



Her dainty hands and flowing' hair. 
And g-raceful curves of form 

Would make one's heart quite palpitate- 
She carried all by storm. 



Trueman Waddingrton was a man 
Who loved his daug-hter — heir, 

And as he rolled in endless wealth 
He watched his child's welfare. 



Their nearest neighbor was St. Lawrence, 

Who lived a little way 
Off on the rugged mountain side. 

Where children like to play. 



Two children he had buried 
When they were yet quite young. 

And now he was a happy man 
'Cause he reared an onl3' son. 



This son he named him Trueman, 
Because he liked the name, 

And tho't 't would be in honor 
Of his neighbor of the same. 



"As an act of kindness and of love.' 

Old Waddington did say, 
"Because vou named him after me 

I pledge my Sade. today." 



The two old friends called in their wives 
And asked them to consent 



PRISON POETKY. 117 

To seal the bars-ain for each child 
On which thev were both bent. 



The mothers thoujrhl it rather soon 

To tie so firm a knot, 
And beg-g-ed them not to seal their doom 

By such a foolish plot. 



But Trueman Wadding-ton was not 

A man to easy quit, 
And he arg-ued long and labored strong 

In a half way frenzied fit. 



He said: "I know we are both rich 
In lands and kine and gold. 

And why not join these vast fortunes 
Before thev are all sold ? 



"You 've named your only son from me; 

True-man it is, True-Man he'll be. 
And now must I sit by in shame 

And cannot seal my daughter's fame?' 



Then spake the elder man St. Lawrence: 
"Dear sir, my neighbor and my friend. 

You have m3' heart and soul and mind. 
And these vast fortunes I will bind 



" Together with true chords of love. 

God help our children find 
A part their mothers will not take 

In this, to seal their children's fate. 



" Now let me, please, suggest a way 
To reach this matter of today; 

And we will friendly make the deal 
So lawyers cannot break the seal." 



(l8 PRISON POETRY. 

Then Waddino-ton sprang- to his feet. 
And warmly did his neij^hbors greet; 

Then shook him warmly by the hand. 
And said, "Come, let us seal the band." 



And then with fixed and mellow eye 
He g-azed on hig-h as he stood by 

His rugged friend and neighbor, too. 
Then St. Lawrence bade him what to d< 



" My dear old friend, sit down, sit down: 
'T is eas3- for us now to drown 

All obstacles that 's in our wa_v 
To carrj- out our plan todaj-." 



Then he proceeded to relate 
How easy men in Empire State 

Could call in witness to their deed 
And satisfy all fortune's creed. 



'•Now, look-a-here, my friend St. Lawrence, 

You cannot be too quick 
To tell me how we *11 do all this 

And make this barg-ain stick." 



And then the sage St. Lawrence did say: 
" Look here, m.v friend, here is our way 

I '11 make my will of my estate 

(And that, 3'ou know, is very g-reat,) 



" Unto your fair and lovely child, 
If she refrains from being wild. 

And when she weds she weds my son. 
My noble, brave and kind Trueman. 



" Then you, my friend, reciprocate: 
You make vour will of this same date, 



PRISON FOETKY. 119 



And seal as I dn tiiiiie: 

Make True, my son, your lejralee. 



'"And t<» hlni g'ive, in simple fee, 

Your lands, your ^oods, your kine, your c;ls1i. 
All in one g'rand and mifrhty crash. 

If he your daujrliter weds." 



The witnesses were duly called; 

The wills were then prepared; 
The testators did sig-n their names. 

The children they well fared. 



The documents were laid away 

In vaults of solid rock: 
There safely for the children kept. 

Their heritag'e of stock. 



Years, years rolled on and Trueman jsrrew 

To be a handsome man. 
He said: " I 'm bound to be " M. U." 

And do the best I can." 



Sadie, on the other hand, 

Grew to be a queen; 
And when to college she did go 

Trueman there was seen. 



The3- plaj-ed at home, when they were youn}/. 

Upon the mountain side. 
And never once did they mistrust 

Thej- "d be both groom and bride. 



When Trueman closed his college course 

He off to Gotham went, 
To become an adept in his class 

While on his mission bent. 



PRISON POETRY. 

Sadie, on the other hand, 
When she had closed her term, 

Returned unto her mountain home. 
For which she hourly j'earned. 



Two years Itad changed this happj- home 

To one most sadly grieved; 
The mother of this lovelj- girl 

Had sadlv been deceived. 



She, down upon her death bed lay. 
When in came Sadie one brig-ht day 

And g'azed upon the shrunken torm 
Which now had battled life's hard storm. 



Poor Sadie, with a broken heart, 
She did the best to take her part; 

But long- the sickness did not last, 
Because her mother now soon passed 



From time into eternit3-, 

Where the human soul is ever free. 
Trueman now, in cit3- fashion. 

Had let die out his old-time passion 



For rocks and rills and mountain side. 
Where dwelt the queen who 'd be his bride. 

So much for selfish, erring- man; 
He '11 do the best where e'er he can. 



Time, time rolled on, when Sadie's sire. 
With renewed j'outh and boyhood ire. 

Took to himself another wife, 
And tried anew to live his life. 



The new-made mistress of the home 
(Who had no place she called her own) 



PRISON POETRY. 



Was mother of adaug'hler fair. 

With dimpled cheeks and ll(i\viii<.>' hair. 



Thf niadame's name was Maria: 
Her daug'hter's was Sarah. 

She soon was boss of all the house. 
And Sadie driven like a mouse 



Into the cold and cheerless world. 

Sadie, with a broken heart, 
Prayed her father take her part; 

But he. with proud and dire disdain, 

Forever did refrain. 



Then Sadie, on her mother's jrrave. 
Prayed loud and long^ for God to save 

Her soul from earthly wreck. 
Then, with a palpitating heart. 



With one fond look she did depart 
To battle hard with broken heart; 

While daug'hter and a second wife 
Should all but ruin her young- life. 



But father did as fathers do. 

When their list of wives have numbered h 
He lent his daug^hter a deaf ear. 

For his second wife he then did fear. 



His life was short; he soon became 

A victim to a raging- pain. 
Which soon relieved him from this life 

And bore him off from life's hard strit'< 



They laid him low beside his wife, 
Tlie pride and joy of Sadie's life; 



PRISON POETRY. 



Kvit Sadif knew not of tht- fate 
Hit father liad so sadiv nn-t. 



The new-tiiade widow, without tear. 

Prepared to move, within a year. 
To far and distant foreiig-n land. 

Where neither had a sinierle friend. 



The frood.s were sold, the stock and kine; 

The lands w^ere leased for a long- time: 
The two, with pockets filled with g'old. 

Sailed for Paris with joys untold. 



VouiiH" Sarah, who was quite a belle. 
When in old Paris she did swell 

Her wardrobe with both silk and lace. 
And numerous paints to ply her face. 



She was the very counterpart — 
Althoutrh 't is stranpe to say — ■ 

Of pretty Srt^^/V Wadding-ton 
In all her daintv wavs. 



She spread herself around, about. 

In all society's halls. 
And never failed, when chance availed. 

To attend the stvlish balls. 



She was a favorite with them all. 

In fact, the Queenly Belle, 
And many a suitor's prayer slu' hear<l 

While on bended knee he fell. 



One I'veniriy while on promenade 

Within society's halls. 
She met a handsome, tall younir man 

She 'd seen at some of tin- balls. 



PRISON POETRY. 

M'lic'ii iiitit)duceci, both their cvos ir 

Sill' blushing- tiniidlv: 
Ho heard the name. " Miss Wadding 

Then asked most courteously; 



■■ From whai part of America's soil 
Do voii and your friends hail ? 

Or have \<>u lived in Paris lontr-' 
On what liner did vou sail? 



She said: " 1 "ni Sadie Waddinirtoii. 

From the city that bears mv name; 
It borders on the old St. Lawrence. 

A ri\'*'r of world-wide fame." 



Then spake the handsome g-entleman: 
" I. too, am from that place; 

And if you are Sadie Waddinortoii, 
I ouirht to know vour face." 



Her clieeks j>Tew flushed and flushed avaiil. 

As on her he searchin^rly g'azed: 
She looked up in his solemn face 

A lid saw he was uTeatlv amazed. 



It was Truemaii St. Lawrence she saw. 

As she yazed on his beautiful form: 
She was more than bewitchiufr in her wa.\ : 

To capture him all by storm. 



The Doctor went to his hotel 
To ponder the matter o'er: 

•• That's not the Sadie Waddin^'-tori 
I 've seen in days of vore." 



His brain was puzzled, his face was lUislieil. 
He was in a frenzied mood: 



123 



124 



PKISOX POETRY 



He could ni)l fathom the mystery 
To (io tlif liest he could. 



If thai "s the ffiil in days of youth 
I played with on the mountain side, 

before I leave tliis old city 
I '11 make her mv darlinif bride. 



So sayiutr. lie sank upon his coucli. 
And slept in dreams so rich and yay 

That loud his servant called and called. 
Because H was late — far in the da v. 



That day he had a trip to make 
Unto a neigrhboring'town, 

And visited a hospital 
Kept by a Doctor Brown. 



In passiiiy from one of the wards. 

While in the open door, 
He chanced to turn, and lookina' back 

Saw, kneelinfr on the Hoor, 



With outstretched arms and pleadinji- 
The si-irl for years he had not seen: 

She "d jrrown into full womanhood. 
She was a perfect fairy Oueen. 



"What! whati "' he cried, "am T deceived' 

If I 'm my father's son 
That g-irl I see back yonder 

Is Sadir lyaddiiigtoii .' " 



He hastened back to where she knelt. 

And bade her to arise. 
And clasped her to his manly breast. 

While tears rose in his eves. 



PKISON POETRY. 125 



'flii'ii 'iweLMi her sobs and moans ai 

She slowly did relate 
How she was driven from her lionu 

Hack in the Empire State. 



She told of awful suffering', 
t)f wandering' far and near: 

Of the death of father and mother, 
To her all that was dear. 



She told him how she had returned 

Unto her mountain dome. 
And as she was told that all had been sold, 
• She was left without a home. 



The Doctor stood transfi.xed with awe; 

Listened to her relate 
The story of the sale of all. 

Back in the Empire State. 



The Doctor said: " My dear Sadie, 

It matters not a bit to me 
Whether you have lands, or g'oods, or STold. 

I have vast fortunes vet untold. 



" What "s mine is yours; 't is always ; 

My father told me Ions' affo, 
Before I left the Empire State 

And came over here to studv late. 



" I offer you my heart and hand. 
And pledge to seal it with the band 

Of holy wedlock, faithfully. 
Now set vour heart forever free 



■ From labor and the toils of life, — 
Come, sa3- 3'ou '11 be my darlintr wife 



126 l>KISON POETRY. 

I tVol a paiisr about m3- heart 
That ijierces like a flashiii}.'- dan." 



" Oh, True. St. Lawrence! Oh, can it be 
That j-ou do really care for me ? 

I, who have lived by a false name 
To hide a step-mother's wicked shame? 



" For five long years mj- name has been 
'As you directly would have seen), 

Not Sadie W., as you have known. 
But the Sadie chang-ed to plain Salome. 



" The Wadding-ton I chang-ed, also, 

For the common name of Van Harlow. 

Then among- strang-ers I did seek 
For work to do. although "t was meek. 



" I came across the ocean wide, 
As servant to a new-made bride; 

She was taken sick and died out hert 
Before she 'd been a bride a vear. 



" Since then I "ve cared for poor and sic^ 
And cannot leave them now, so quick. 

I patients have who ni/is/ have care 
Before / leave for better fare. 



'• Now True, my dear, I '11 be your own; 

I '11 make you an ever happy home; 
I feel Pa's oft' spoke words are true, 

Trueman 's your name, Tritf Man art- vou. 



He pressed her closely to his breast: 
To drj- her tears he did his best; 

Then gently kissed her burning cheek.'- 
And bade her wait but a lew weeks. 



PRISON POETRY. 

Tin- happiest man in all the lainl 

Was True. St. Lawrence, with liviublinj;- hand, 
Who then returned to his rooms rich, 

A restless nifi'ht to roll and pitch 



Upon a bed of faultless down. 
But pains of heart it could not drown. 

He la.v and mused throug-hout the nig-ht. 
"Cause his future now looked brisrht. 



Sill all Waddington and her mother 
Prepared a party for another. 

A trent they wished to entertain, 

'Cause Sarah wished to bear his name. 



" It is to be a swell affair. 

So she could safely set her snare 

To catch the unsuspecting True., 
Because he loves and loves but vou." 



So spake the mother to her child. 
Who seemed delig-hted — almost wild- 

To think that she could pla.v her part 
Without remorse or pain at heart. 



The time rolled on, and days were spent 

In fixing' up for the event; 
The rich were called from every side 

To see Sarah — the would-be bride. 



She sent a most bewitchinjr note 
For Dr. ' Lawrence to cast the vote. 

Who *d be the Belle of honor, brig'ht. 
To bear the graces of the night. 



The Doctor smiled, as he sat down 
To answer it, without a frown ; 



127 



I2S PRISOK POETKY. 



And faitlifully he did outline, 
111 cluiiacters most cute and lint 



" M_v choice is one, and only one; 

And now I 've written and 't is donel 
As sure as I 'ni my father's son. 

'T is one — fair 5arf?> Waddiiij^toii ! 



•'And now, before it is too late. 

There 's one request I have to make 
That I be g-ranted then, or sooner. 

To be escort to the maid of honor." 



•■ Your request is at once g-ranted. 
And hope we "11 become enchanted: 

And with your presence '11 be elated, 
Because, it seems, we are related. 



Fair Sarah, then, did make it known 

(Real quietl.v about her home) 
Tliat she and 'Lawrence, raised side by side. 

Would soon become both groom and bride. 



Silks and diamonds bought with g^old. 

Gotten from the kine she 'd sold 
'Way back in the Empire State, 

Where poor Sadie met her fate. 



Just one week before the eve' 
When he Sarah would deceive, 

Trueman went to see his love, 
Wlif) was prettj- as a dove. 



"Sadie," said he, "sweet is revenge! 

Let us now your labor change. 
The ones who drove you to your fate 

Away back in the Empire State. 



PRISON POETRY. 

'•Are here in Paris this lony time. 
And live in luxury sublime. 

The gold they g-ot from off your kint 
It g'oes for suppers and for wine. 



•• In holy wedlock lot us wed, 
I "11 lead you to a bridal bed: 

And then in luxury and state 
Wc '11 'tend the ball ere 't is too late. 



" I "11 humble them in dust and shame! 

Ah, Sadie, you were not to blame I 
IVe 'II make them wish the3- 'd never sold 
•STour g'oods and kine for glittering' gold! 



"Come, darling, now we '11 off today. 

The bridal knot to firmly tie. 
Then I your graceful swanlike neck 

With pearls and rubys will bedeck. 



•• I "11 trim your lovely graceful form 
With richest satin to be worn: 

I '11 place upon j-our tapered hand 
A solitaire, set in gold band. 



•• Your dainty- feet encased in kid 
Of dainty styles, they 're onl3' made 

For those who 're called the name of Queens, 
And bought by those who have vast means. 



"Then to the ball we '11 proudly go, 
(And who we '11 meet I do not know, 

I "11 there present toever^- one 
My bride, line Sadie Waddington. 



" The shock, so sudden, will be great: 
They '11 quail beneath their hearts own hate 



129 



130 ■ PKISON POETRY. 

Of beiiiy there exposed to all; 
Oh, won't it be an awful fall? 



"Come, Saclie dear, revenge is sweet I 
Now is our chance to get j-our mete 

Which the\- have held from you so long-. 
And did you such a cruel w^rong." 



Then Sadie spoke: "Truenian, my dear. 
There 's naught I know for me to fear. 

Revenge ts sweet, although 't is queer. 
Revenge I get in Paris here." 



Thev carried out their little plot. 
And never skipped a single jot. 

The eve. was fine, the folk were gay. 
And not a thing stood in their way. 



It was quite late when they arrived 
At the mansion of the would-be bride. 

As soon as Doctor stepped in sight. 
Escorting Sadie — his delight — 



Sarah saw the graceful form 

And, with one scream, she left the ro 
And fell fainting to the floor. 

They gently laid her on the couch 



Before the open door. 

Her mother came in haste to see 
What all the trouble there could be. 

And did not see the Doctor's bride 



Until she was close by her side. 

And when she saw it was too late. 
She gasped: " Oh, Sarah 's met her fate," 

Then fell into a deathly state. 



PRISON POETRY. 

The mother swooned and swooned away 
The entire ni^'ht and most the daj-; 

And then the Doctor came to say, 
" Her life is run, she cannot stavl "" 



Sadie, with trained and skillful hand. 
Nursed Sarah back to conscious-land; 

Did faithfully the watchword keep 
While often o 'er them she did weep. 



And, just before the mother died. 
She Sadie called to her bedside 

And beg-g-ed her to full pardon give 
For cruel wrong' she did receive. 



Sadie, always so good and true, 
Said she always thought she knew 

That the grand day would surelj- come 
When that jrreat wrong would be undt 



She g'ranted full, complete pardon 
For all the wrongs the dame had done. 

And then she spoke kind words of cheer 
Into the madam's dying- ear. 



With firm-set eyes and drooping chin 
The madame grasped and tried to cling 

Unto the hand she once did scorn. 
And drove from home at break of morn. 



She then was wrapt in eternal death. 
And from her soul came not a breath. 

In casket pure as driven snow 
Unto the church3'ard she did go. 



And there was laid beneath the clay 
To await Jehovah's Judgment Daj-. 



PRISON POETRY. 

All lands and g-oods and g'old and kine 
She left behind for endless time I 



Poor Sarah ! doomed to awful fate. 
Her mind was left in ruined state; 

In raving- madness and in strife 
She tried to take our Sadie's life. 



The best physicians in the land 
Were summoned forth on every hand 

To try and bringr her from the strife 
Back to the land of happy life. 



Off to an asylum she must g-o, 
'Cause 't was not safe to leave her so; 

And with g-ood care she might regain 
And be relieved from mental pain. 



Salome, our faithful lass and bride. 
Resolved to stay by Sarah's side 

And help her regain her lost mind, 
And comfort for her she would find. 



Nine weeks were spent in mad-house fare, 
Salome bestowing tender care 

Upon the one who once did face 
Salome in all her dire disgrace. 



When Doctor St. Lawrence saw his wife 
Was bent on battling for the life 

Of one who was once her mad foe. 
He said: "All right, it shall be so." 



Salome, she clung unto her charge, 
As if she were her dearest friend; 

She incurred expenses somewhat large 
To treat her patient to the end. 



PRISON POETRY. 133 

The Doctor soon beg-an to leant 

His bride and wife would never spurn 
-The one who once her home did take. 
And drove her off for mere ])ride's sake. 



He asked Salome what she would do 
In case that Sarah did pull throug-h. 

And once ag'ain her mind reg-ain 

Before thev crossed the rag-ing' main. 



Salome did quickly make reply. 
While glistening- tears stood in her eye: 

■' I '11 take her to old Empire State, 
Right to the door where I met fate! 



•• I "11 make her happy, if I can. 
And now I '11 form my little plan: 

We must, dear True., just do our best, 
And fix her up in a cosy nest. 



We will give her a little home 
On the beautiful mountain side; 

We will find her a handsome lover 
Who '11 be proud to call her his bride. 



" We will give them all attention 
That the best of friends could do; 

We will jetiti n good for evil, 
"Cause mv mother taught me so. 



"Let us show that true religion 
Is the life we ought to live. 

And the ways that Christ rejoiced in 
Are the ways to which we cleave. 



"Oh, my husband, dearest Trueman, 
I believe in Sarah reigns 



134 



PRISON POETRY 

The trne principle of goodness — 
Let us fan that spark to flames. 



" Can I now secure her safely, 
Teach her shun her evil ways 

And discard that haug'hty spirit 
That she learned in young-er days. 



" I will be the happiest mortal 
Ever lived on mother earth, 

And will reach that heavenlj- portal 
Only reached by second birth." 



After coaxing', begging', teasing, 

Sarah consented for to go 
Back across the ocean, raging. 

Where her childhood seeds did sow. 



When they reached the harbor safely. 
Bag and baggage on the truck, 

They cast lots to see what steamer 
Thej' would choose for their good luck 



Doctor got the choice of vessels. 

And he quicklj' did decide 
That the City of St. Paris 

Should take their protege and his bride 



Safely in the vessel's cabin. 
Housed in cosy stateroom there. 

All were ready for the voj-age. 
And did look for cheerful fare. 



Out upon the briny billows. 

Just three days and nights, "t was said. 
When the night was dark and dreary, 

Trueman rose from sleepless bed. 



PRISON POETRY. 135 

There was sonietliins' weifjrhed upon him, 
. Somethinor whispered to beware; 
He dressed and went upon the deck 
To breathe the crisp sea air. 



He paced and paced the vessel's deck 
With long- and manly stride; 

He went from starboard o'er to port 
And back to starboard side. 



He 'd been upon the deck some time. 

And peered into the gloom 
As if them something' overawed 
► And threatened them with doom. 



At last, to port, he spied a fleck, 
A dancing' on the waves. 

And there he plainl3- saw a deck 
Bedecked with pirate knaves. 



The vessel, with a dark-hued hull. 
Bore straightway on its course. 

When, " Hard to port! To port ! to port .'" 
Rang out a voice real coarse. 



The strange boat glided swiftly on, 
Like a ghost on phantom wings, 

While the crisp sea breeze went dancing past 
And through her rigging sings. 



The strange boat slipped along, across 

The briny billows white. 
And their steamer ploughed and labored hard 

Along its renewed flight. 



It was a close and dangerous call, 
Because the night was dark; 



136 PRISON POETRY. 

Had they collided there, on the ocean bare. 
They "d went down with their bark. 



The voyag'e, then, to Gotham 
Was stormy and quite roug-h. 

And all ag-reed, when landed, 
That they had quite enougrh. 



They then all took the railroad train 
North, throug-h the Empire State, 

And soon were on the mountain side 
Where Sadie met her fate. 



The first place Sadie wished to see 
Was graves of father and mother. 

And tripping- lig-htly from the yard. 
She passed out with another. 



That bitter morn, with memories fresh. 
When from ber home she 'd fled. 

She was scorned by one now too g^lad 
To lead her on ahead. 



When she approached her mother's grave 
The tears rolled thick and fast. 

And by her side poor Sarah stood. 
With memories of the past 



A fitting throug-h her guilty mind: 
And then she spoke at last: 

" Oh, Sadie, Sadie, what a blot 
Upon my mother's past; 



It stings within my guilt_v heart. 
And would to God I now could part 

With half the pain I feel — 
The balm of Christ could scarcely heal. 



PRISON POETRY. 

She stooped, and silenily did press 

Her fresh and i-osy lips 
Upon the little mound of grass 

"Beneath — dear mother sleeps." 



Then Sarah, with most tender word^ 
Pressed Sadie to her breast 

And with a fervent, heartfelt plea, 
Prayed both them to be blest. 



When they returned unto their home. 

Their friendship sealed with silent love. 
Thej- could not bear to be alone; 
I They felt a power from up above. 



Old friends and neighbors, witli deliylii. 
Called on the Doctor and his bride. 

And there convened, on the first nijrht. 
A host of friends who 're on their side. 



There 's one among' them old and trray. 

Who 'd lived rig'ht there for all his life: 
'T is the elder man and sage, St. Lawrence, 

And he smiles upon the Doctor's v.Mfe. 



Heir to the Waddington estate, 
Sadie reigns the queen of all: 

Her friendship for Sarah was great. 
And sister her did often call. 



The Doctor chose to spend his life 
Upon the handsome mountain side 

With Sadie, his true loving wife. 
And Father St. Lawrence until he died. 



Time rolled around and months flew by: 
Sadie and Sarah, hand in hand. 



I-S PRISON POETRY. 



Sealed by the firmest friendship tie. 
Two of the truest in the land. 



There chanced to stroll from distant clime 
A brig'ht young' man of Sadie's kin; 

Came to visit in Summer time, 

And Sarah was introduced to him. 



Sadie tried her best to make a match, 
And championed well her cause; 

vSarah viewed it as a catch 
That one very seldom draws. 



Though "t was but a short acquaintance. 
Still the wedding time was fixed: 

The intended groom had patience, 
'Cause he felt he was not rich. 



Sadie, sweet as dewy honey. 

Wishing that her friends should wed. 
Proffered home and lands and money 

If the word would just be said. 



" I am heir to all this fortune. 
Known as Waddington's estate; 

Come, now, Sarah; come, now, Hawthorne. 
Join your hearts ere 't is too late. 



" 1 will give to you a large farm 

Yonder on the mountain side; 

T will give j-ou kine and money, 

Tf vou "11 be mv cousin's bride. 



Sarah spake, with dewy eyelids. 
To the one she loved so dear: 

"Sadie, I am anything but worthy 
Of this princely gift, to cheer 



PRISON POETRY. 

My poor broken, wicked heail. 
After I have been so bad; 

You should never take my part. 
Since / took that which ro/i had." 



Yet Sadie, true to her own passion, 
Promised deed in fee for all. 

If Sarah would wed her own cousin. 
Ere the Summer ran to Fall. 



So the wedding- day was fixed 
When the two should be made one, 

And their home, as she predicted. 
Would be deeded as their own. 



When at last the nuptial fjrreetin<r 

Was received on every hand. 
The sag^e, St. Lawrence, came to their meeting 

The last one left of their quartet band. 



The weddinisr knot was duly tied. 

And the folk were feeliny gay: 
They were now made happy g-room and bride. 

Starting- out in life's pathway. 



When the ceremony was over. 

And the g^ifts thej- were bestowing- 
Bridal g^ifts as sweet as clover — 

Sadie, with her rich hair flowing. 



Called the old 'Squire of the city 
That to witness of her sig-ning 

The transfer of title fair. 
To the land that lay up there; 



When, to her surprise and cliagrin. 

Father St. Lawrence, with gentle voice. 



139 



14° 



PRISON POETRY. 

T(^ld her that she could not barg'ain. 
For she had not even choice. 



"Now, my danghter, not one farthinjr 
Of this vast and rich estate 

Has been left unto True.'s darling-. 
Now, I tell you, 't is not too late. 



"All this land yon tho't was 3'ours 
By inheritance of your blood, 

Was bequeathed by 3-our dear father 
To one yon never thought he would. 



\ow, I 'vc broug-lit the Judjefe of Probate 
As an honored guest of mine. 

That he mig-ht reveal the truth, 
That it might be writ in rhyrne. 



Then, to soothe the disappointment. 

The old judge with silver3' hair 
Drew from 'nealh his outer garment. 

Two old papers kept with care. 



One was read by him to Sadie, 
Where her father had endowed 

All his lands, and kine and money 
On the one who made her proud. 



When this document was ended. 
And was handed to Truenian, 

The old sage, St. Lawrence, pretended 
That he enjoyed j'outb again. 



■• Read, Judge.' read your other paper! 

Tell ni)- daughter here the truth; 
Tell her what their anxious fathers 

Did for them while in their vouth." 



PRISON POETRY. 



When the document was ended. 
With tears showering down her face, 

Sadie, kisses, sweetly blended, 
While she held him in embrace. 



Long- their fortunes had been blended 

B\- the sigrnatures alone 
Of their fathers in their child days. 

As thej- played around their home. 



•' True, my dear; O will you come here ? 

Sig-n this deed! Come quick, O do; 
Carry out my simple wishes; 

Sarah is my friend, so true." 



•■ Yes, my darling-, this with pleasure 
I will do, to please you all; 

It is my most pleasant leisure 
To do bidding- at j'our call." 



So, the deed of gift was given, 
And in happiness they 'd start; 

From that home they 'd ne'er be driven. 
Life anew to never part. 



There in happiness and comfort 
Did they live upon the jjlace 

Where the evil of proud passion 
Smothered one in dire disg-race. 



Happj- was Salome and Trueman 
When they saw their protege safe 

In the hands of Cousin Hawthorne, 
On the AVaddington old place. 



Safe within the coils of honielife, 
Safe wilhin the cottage walls, 



141 



142 



PRISON POETRY. 



Safely with a trusting- husband. 
Safe within their friendly calls. 



Thus the veng-eance of our Hero 
Was full spent to meet her theme; 

Yet so different from a Nero, 
Because she knew she could redeem. 



Salome's revenge was to her sweet, 
'Cause she 'd conquered, not cut down; 

Now she feared no one to meet, 
Nor would anv wear a frown. 



Thoug-h some years had been so bitter. 

And had fraught such cruel pain: 
Now the coldest of the winter 

Seemed like flower_v beds of green. 



Now, away up on the mountains. 

In the well known Empire State, 
Sadie Waddington is living- 

In sweet REVENGE, where she met fate. 




PRISON POETRY. 

A TRIBUTE TO 
CAPT. GEORGE W. HESS. 



143 



BY G. W. VAN WEIGHS. 



Almost a decade thou hast battled with a patriot's band, 
Whose first duty is devotion to their native land; 
And no comrade but is willing, with a ready mind, 
To declare thee brave and loval to all mankind. 



In thy country's hour of peril, on the battle field. 
Thou w^rt ever more than willing- all her rights to shield, 
And, with true and loj-al purpose, battled for the right. 
Till secession's traitorous banner sunk in endless night I 



Duty's path to thee is glory, glory easy won; 

For a task so oft repeated is quite easy done; 

Yet no one can ever chide, for th^' generous heart 

Ne'er will crush the poor and helpless with oppression's dart. 



Everj- prisoner knows and likes thee, for thy friendly ways 
Must attract their close attention and excite their praise; 
And the few who know thee better, as a man of heart. 
Would desire no nobler mission than to take thy part. 



May you live in peace and plenty, happy with j-our own. 
Till Jehovah's love shall gather 'round His august throne 
All who, like you, honest comrade, follows heaven's plan 
And respects the rules of virtue and the rights of man. 




144 PRISON POETRY 

MY LAWYER. 



When grappled in the law's e:nbrace. 
Who first betrayed an anxious face 
And fain would shield nie from disjrrace '. 
My Lawyer. 



Who told me I should not confess, 
That he would all my wrong-s redress 
And set me free from all distress? 
yiy Lawyer. 



When, sick in jail, I senseless laj-. 
Who took my watch and case awaj-. 
Lest prowling- thieves on me should prey 
My Lawyer. 



Who to m3' wealth tenacious clung-, 
And for me wag-ged his oily tongue, 
And at my foes hot embers flung- ? 
Mj- Lawyer. 



Who told me he was dreadful smart 
And knew the law-books all b3- heart. 
And always took his client's part? 
Mv Lawyer. 



Who, in the court, with peerless pride, 
My rig-hts affirmed, m3- g-uilt denied. 
And swore the State's attorney lied? 
Mj- Lawjer. 



And when twelve men, in one conipound. 
For me a guilty verdict found. 
Who came to stanch the bleeding wound ' 
My Lawyer. 



145 



PRISON POETRY. 

Who said my time within the wall 
Would be exceeding brief and small, 
The minimum, or none at all? 
My Lawj-er. 



And when the judgre my doom proclaimed. 
And three long- years of exile named, 
Who looked indignant and ashamed? 
Mv Lawyer. 



When, at the sheriff's stern command, 
I for the train was told to stand. 
Who longest shook and squeezed my hand ' 
My Lawyer. 



Who, when he had me safe confined. 
No more concerned his craftj- mind. 
Nor was, for me, to grief inclined? 
My Lawj-er. 



Who closed the mortgage on my lot. 
And drove mj- family from my cot. 
And left them homeless on the spot ? 
My Lawyer. 



Who, when of prison clothes I 'm stripped. 
And from these walls am homeward shipped, 
Will get himself immenselj- whipped ? 
My Lawjer. 

[Written bj- Mr. George Gilbert, who died on the 9th of Jum 
A. D. 1890.] 




146 PRISON POETRY. 

A SAD WARNING. 



BY GEO. W. H. HAKKISON. 



In prison cell, at early twiligrht, 
Smoking' Foesters " Best Cigar," 

Sat a convict, little dreaming 
Aught his perfect bliss could mar. 

Round the cell-block, slowly ambling. 
Came a "Screw," on mischief bent, 

And his wide, expanded nostrils 
Quickly inhaled the welcome scent. 



Wave on wave, thro' latticed iron, 
Smoky clouds rose thick and high. 

And the happy convict murmured: 
"Go, ye cloudlets, greet the sky I" 



But the cloudlets, incense laden. 
Lingered near the oaken floor. 

Till the "Screw," with cat-like motion. 
Stood before the smoker's door. 



In the spittoon, charred and sputtering. 
Lay the smoker's joy and pride; 

And the " Screw," exultant, murmured: 
" Stackhouse will //its case decide." 



Morning dawned. The " cellar agent " 
Bore the trembling wretch awa5'- 

To a cellar, cold and gloomj'. 
Where the tools of torture lay. 



Blows and shrieks alternate sounded. 

And a voice from near the floor 
Murmured: "Stackhouse! mercy! MERCY! 

P-1-e-a-s-e, sir; 1 7vill smoke no more!" 



PRISON POETRY. 



147 



From the cellar, shorn and shaven, 
Skulked the cowering "con." away; 

And he smokes — but, Oh! how watchful 
Is that victim, who can saj' ? 



All ye inmates, take the warning. 
Gushing' from a brother's heart: 

He who smokes within these portals 
For the dire offense }>iav smart! 




148 PRISON POETRY. 



ACROSTIC TO 

J. C. LANGENBERGER. 

Captain of the O. P. Night Watch. 



BY G. W. VAN WEIGHS. 

Just to all men, to all men kind and true; 

ijonspicuous as a giant yet comely to the view; 

^oved by all who know him, trusted everywhere; 

Always more than willing- to ease his fellow's care; 

^Vever harsh or cruel, never false or base; 

i^ioing- in and coming out among those in disgrace, 

gaming from each prisoner's heart the meed of honest praise; 

jVone condemn his actions, none despise his ways; 

^dy his children reverenced, by his wife adored; 

jib very friend is welcome at his ample board; 

Jjlich in all that makes a niati, poor alone in hate; 

Jaod of Mercy bless the man who nightly guards our fate; 

''jhver maj' he fill the post that wisdom has assigned, 

Ruling all, as now he does, b3' strength of heart and mind. 



PRISON POETRY. 149 

SHE LOVES ME YET. 



UY GEO. W. H. HAKKISON. 



Amid the cares and griefs of life. 
One precious thought I '11 ne'er forget, 

I have a fond and faithful wife. 
For darling- Lulu loves me yet. 



The bitterest pang- that earth can g-ive 
Can never make my soul reg-ret 

The fact that I on earth can live, 
While Lulu says she loves me yet. 



The sweetest joy m3- heart could know 
Would prove a diamond yet unset, 

Whose radiant light could never glow. 

Like this sweet thought, " She loves me yet. 

Should grief deluge my troubled soul 

Till ever3- hour some care beset, 
I could defy its stern control 

While murmuring, "Lulu loves me yet." 

Should every friend I have on earth 

Each vow of loyalty forget, 
I could survive the cruel blow. 

Since darling Lulu loves me yet. 



Should earth with one accord combine, 
Sweet Lulu's influence to beset, 

It would not change my constant mind. 
If I but felt " She loves me yet." 



I care no sweeter boon in life. 
Nor will my heart its choice regret; 

I only long to meet that wife 
Who truly says she loves me yet. 



'50 



PRISON POETRY. 



ACROSTIC TRIBUTE TO 
HARRY SMITH. 



BY G. W. VAN WEIGHS. 



^e is like the god, Appollo, when in days of old 

^11 the hearts of Greece could conquer, yet despised their ffold. 

^^ich in manhood, health and youth, he is ever free 

|l|eadj' to assist his brother whatsoever his need may be. 

'^ou can trust him freely, fully, with your love or g'old, 

jiiince his love of truth and honor never can g-row cold. 
4ilay he ever do his duty and to all be kind, 
^t is but the noble hearted who can rule the mind, 
j^rusting-, still, his love of country and his love for man, 
g^e may rest assured Heaven will endorse his plan. 



PRISON POETRY. 

THE PHANTOM BOAT. 



151 



BY GEO. W. H. HAKKISON. 



Two lovers once sat dreaming- 
Of scenes o'erjurown b3- years; 
Sweet Daisy's eyes were eloquent 
With girlhood's pleading- tears; 
Her little hand was Ij'ing 
Confidingly in mine, 
While her silvery voice pleaded:' 
" Dear one, awake the Nine ! " 



"Yes, darling, I will rhyme for you; 
What legend shall I drew ! 
Shall I now fold you in my arms 
And, drifting- down life's stream, 
'Mid singing birds and nodding flowers. 
Pour forth ra.v soul in love^ 
In accents soft and tender — 
As the cooing of a dove ? 



Or shalf I tell j-ou, dearest one. 

Why 3-onder's rippling stream 

First gained the name "Tululah " 

In an ag-e that 's now a dream ? 

Well, now, pillow your head upon nij- breast. 

The legend is weird and wild; 

I fear me much its harrowing scenes 

Will shock, thee, gentle child. 



Will you listen, while we 're watching 
For the far-famed Phantom Boat? 
Perhaps the tale will lead us 
To catch the first faint note 
Of Tululah 's wondrous music 
As she floats down this stream, 
For, I assure 3-ou, darling-. 
This legend is no dream. 



152 



PRISON POETRY. 

Where now we sit, in days g'one by. 

The stealthy panther crept. 

And bears and wolves in horrid hordes 

Their tireless vig-ils kept; 

Turke3-, deer and beaver 

Were scattered far and wide. 

And here the lordl.v savag-e stalked 

In all his pristine pride ; 



The Creeks then ruled this forest. 
From Suwanee to the sea; — 
A haug'ht.v, bold and cruel race. 
Cunning', treacherous, wild and free! 
To hunt and fish, and boast and fight 
Were the duties of a brave. 
While woman — alas! sweet woman 
Was but a cowering' slave! 



No g-rant had she to breathe her wrong^s 

Before the "Council Fire," 

Nor dared she utter a sing-le word 

To g'ain her heart's desire. 

Until her savag-e master 

First g-ave her leave to speak; 

Nor dared she then to brave his will 

Lest he his veng-eance wreak! 



Yet ever and anon there rose 
A woman, whose proud soul 
Ignored those self-created g^ods 
And spurned their base control. 
Such was the brave Tululah, 
Whose spirit haunts this stream: 
In a phantom barge it g-lides along", 
Like a wraith in a troubled dream. 



'T is said she haunts this river. 
Alone on a mistj- nig-ht, 
And that each one who sees her 
Is 'palled with slrang-e affright! 



PRISON POETRY. 

And why she haunts this river 
Is the burden of my tale, 
And none who have a tender heart 
But will her fate bewail. 



TuUilah was Ocala's child. 

To whom the Creeks ascribe 

The name of the boldest leader 

That ever led their tribe I 

A savag-e of herculean build. 

With fierce and restless eye. 

His haug-htv lip deigned not to smile. 

And scorned to breathe a sig-hl 



Tululah was his pride and joy. 
The only thing- he loved on earth. 
Since she became an orphan 
At the fatal hour of birth I 
The superstitious savage 
Deemed her mother's spirit nigh. 
And thought, who harmed an orphan, 
B_v a spirit hand should die I 



She was born, too, " In a Castle," 
Gifted with a *' second sight;" 
Friends of earth, and sea, and air, 
At he) command would 15ght. 
Her raven locks and soulful eyes. 
Her faultless form and peerless face. 
And voice of wondrous melody 
Awed and charmed her race. 



She reigned an undisputed Queen, 

All her mandate must obe3-; 

And even the fierce Ocala 

Was obedient to her sway. 

Yet even she was powerless 

To stay the raging flood 

Of tireless, deathless savage hate 

That soug-ht the white man's blood. 



153 



154 



PRISON POETRY. 

Ocala's hatred of the whites 

Was known both far and near; 

Brave hunters spake his name with awe. 

And women in tremblingr fear! 

At last he grew so treacherous 

No white man dared come niisrh. 

Till a trio of g-allant hunters 

Determined he should die ! 



They knew 't was a danisrerous mission 
On which their steps was bent, 
Yet the praj'ers of honest settlers 
Their true hearts courage lent. 
As they neared the sleeping- villag^e, 
Where Ocala awaited his doom. 
They flitted like weird spectres 
In the silent midnig-ht gloom I 



There, spread before their vision, 

Five hundred wigwams laj-; 

A savage guerdon of defense 

For him they sought to sla3'. 

To the silent village center 

Our gallant hunters crept. 

To the door of the largest wigwam. 

Where proud Ocala slept. 



Stepping across the prostrate form 
Of the sentinel at the door. 
The}' breathed a prayer for absent ones 
Whom they might see no more. 
Three knives flashed in midnight air. 
Then fell with a sickening thud, 
Ocala, Napoleon of his tribe. 
Lay withering in his blood! 



But hark! what means that fierce warhoop. 
Resounding loud and clear? 
'T is the bugle blast that calls each brave 
When the paleface foe is near! 



PRISON POETRY. 

Gathering' fast in the midnig'ht g'loom. 
They form " The Circle of Death " 
Around the dauntless hunters. 
Who stand with bated breath 



Awaiting the savag-e onslaug-ht, 
Determined to sell their lives 
To the service of their country 
And the freedom of men's wives; 
While pitying Heaven aids them 
By the darkness of the night, 
Since not a star will lend its aid 
To guide their foes aright! 



Now facing North, and East, and West, 
They meet the savage foes. 
Recruiting Charon's armj- 
By every lusty blow; 
But still the3' come in hideous swarms, 
Like hounds let loose from hell, 
Till, overborne by numbers. 
Our bleeding heroes fell I 



All honor to the gallant three, 
Twelve braves in silence lay. 
With gaping wounds and stony eyes. 
To greet returning day I 
While yet a score were nursing 
Wounds which these heroes gave. 
That signed their right to enter 
Into an unwept grave! 



Ocala ne'er again would scourge 

Their country, far and near. 

Nor wring from helpless innocence 

An unavailing tear! 

His death alone destroj'ed the boast 

And stilled the raging flood 

Of senseless pride and passion 

That bathed his hands in blood! 



155 



,56 PRISON POETRY, 

But, alas, for human prowess, 

These deeds but roused the ire 

Of savag-e wretches, who now tried 

To vent their spleen with fire ! 

Three stakes were now erected 

And fag'ots heaped around, 

While painted fiends in human shape 

Exultant, sat ag-round. 



The}- led the helpless captives forth. 
With many a shout and hoot. 
And drug' them to their awful doom, 
Less feeling than a brute! 
And first they bound Hugh Cannon, 
Whose descendants, love, you know, 
I pointed out to you, last Fall, 
When we were at the show. 



They bound him to the cruel stake 

Before his comrades' eyes, 

Then scornfully they bade them mark 

" How a paleface coward dies! " 

Thank God his captors were deceived. 

He smiled amid the flame! 

And, with his fast expiring breath, 

These words bequeathed to fame: 



" To suffer in a noble cause 

Is sweet beyond compare! 

These greed}' flames that lick my blood 

But light a vision fair, 

Where heroism and heroes sweep 

The still resounding lyre. 

Heaven's harmonies have quenched 

The tortures of this fire! 



"Tumultuous raptures 'round me roll 
Heaven's pearly gates ajar! 
M}' spirit soars on fleshless wing 
Beyond the faintest star! 



PRISON POETRY. 

Oil, blissful death; oh, vision fair. 
What sweet celestial glories shine. 
The loved and lost of earlier years 
Are noiu forever mine I " 

The savag-e horde in silence stood 

And listened as he sang. 

While even their untaught eyes could see 

He suffered not a pang! 

No 3'ell triumphant smote his ear. 

Awe silenced every tongue. 

And many a heart beat faster 

As he his requiem sung. 



Then lionhearted Conway, 

Beneath whose eagle eye 

Even savage foes once trembled 

Was offered up to die! 

Defiant still 'mid writhing flames, 

He heaped on them his scorn. 

And, with true prophetic voice 

He doomed their race unborn. 



Rejoice! rejoice! ye howling fiends. 
Distort jour hideous face. 
Soon the white man's wrath shall sweep 
From earth your blood-stained race. 
While shining fields and cities fair 
Attest the white man's power. 
You accursed Creeks shall be 
Tradition's useless dower! " 



Now comes your own ancestor. 

The gallant, brave McCray, 

Who planned this glorious campaign 

And led the awful fight. 

He was a perfect Hercules, 

Cast in Appollo's mould, 

With a heart of witching tenderness. 

Yet proud and dauntless soul. 



157 



J58 PRISON POETRY. 

Oft had he visited this tribe, 
On peaceful mission bent, 
And to many a savag'e 
His kind assistance lent. 
Yet little dreamed he, at this hour. 
One heart amid that throng' 
Still beat responsive to his own. 
Attuned to love's mad song! 



Yet, as they bound him to the stake 
And raised the flaming- brand. 
The Chief that held it fell a corpse. 
Killed by a woman's hand! 
And Indian maiden loosed his bands 
And raised her voice on hig-li: 
"Who harms my paleface lover 
Bv Tululah's hand shall die!" 



Behold, the savage concourse stand. 
Transfixed by silent awe. 
And g-aze upon Ocala's child. 
Held sacred by their law! 
They feared Ocala's spirit 
Might then be hovering nigh; 
Nor dared to harm his darling child, 
Lest he who harmed her die! 



The Queen, with head and form erect. 
Bore McCray undismayed, 
And in her father's wigwam 
Her wounded lover laid! 
Then bending gently o'er him. 
Each wound she rightly dress. 
And with sweet plaintive melodies 
Lured the weary one to rest. 



At dawning light McCray awoke, 
His Queen still lingering there; 
His eyes bespoke his gratttude. 
His lips were moved in praj-er 



PRISON POETRY. 

For the lithe and graceful maiden 
Whose love he knew to be 
Pure as early morning-'s blush. 
Yet deathless as — Eternitj- 1 



Althoufjh ouce failed, his savagre foe--^ 

Still thirsted for his blood; 

The hate within their bosoms 

Was as tireless as a flood. 

Not daring open viflleuce. 

They soug-ht Oneida's craft, 

And 'neath the guise of friendship 

Gave the lovers a sleeping draug'ht. 



When the mightj' g-od of slumber 

Had locked them fast in sleep, 

The wily savage entered. 

His fearful oath to keep. 

They took McCray to the river 

In sight of these roaring falls. 

Whose sheer descent — two hundred feet- 

The stoutest heart appalls! 



They bound him fast in a frail canoe. 
Set adrift 'mid the current's flow. 
Believing his life would be dashed out 
On the jagged rocks below. 
Then, gladl3- turning homeward, 
A ready lie they make 
To appease her burning anger 
When Tululah shall awake! 



Slowlj- the doomed man drifted, 

Y'et faster, at each breath. 

The quickening current bore him 

To the open gates of death ! 

Yet still he slept; aye, slept and dreamed 

Of the proud Creek's peerless flower 

Who, for deathless love of him. 

Had braved her nation's power. 



159 



l6o PRISON POETRY. 

Spurned her murdered siris corpse 

And to his murderer clung-! 

Aye, on the spot that drank his blood, 

Love's soothing- ditties sung! 

Dreamed of the eyes that flashed with fire 

When his foeman dared draw nigh. 

Yet softened into tenderness 

At her lover's faintest sigh. 



Dreams of the hand that sped the dart 

That pierced the chieftain's breast, 

Yet with such witching tenderness 

Could tremble in caress! 

Dreams of the heart that proudly braved 

A nation's deadly hate. 

Yet, at a lover's first command, 

Would brook a martyr's fate! 



Dreams of the hour when Tululah, 
Who so bravely saved his life. 
Shall desert her baffled kinsman 
To become a white man's wife! 
Dreams how he would love and prize her. 
Shielding her with tenderest care. 
Spending time, and life, and fortune 
But to grant her lightest prayer. 



But his dream is rudely broken, 

And his blanched lip loudly calls, 

For he hears the well known rumbling 

Of this river's awful falls. 

Life was sweet, death was so near. 

And he so young to die! 

No wonder that his trembling- lips 

Sought mercy from on high. 



He bore ten thousand tortures 
With every passing breath. 
As he lay bound and helpless. 
Gliding swiftly on to death. 



PRISON POETRY. 

He raised his clarion voice 
Above the deafeningf roar; 
Great heavens! can a human cry 
Reacli that resounding- shore? 



" Yes! Yes! " a once familiar voice 

Calls loudly from that shore, 

And a well known trapper woos time 

To life and hope once more ! 

Bv an effort, born of hope renewed, 

McCray sprang- to his feet; 

The trapper saw, his lariat flew. 

His outstretched hands to g-reet. 



" Steady.'" the practical huntsman cried: 

" Your peril is almost o'er; 

Stead 3", for in a moment 

Your foot shall press th^ shore! " 

Then, as he drew the skiff ashore. 

He recog-nized McCray, 

But g-azed in silent wonder 

I-'or late raven locks were grev ! 



And never, to his dying- day. 
Would McCray view the place 
Where, in suspended agony. 
He met death face to face ! 
He shuddered at an Indian's name, 
And soon forgot the Queen, 
Who once so bravely saved him 
From a nation's senseless spleen. 



He wooed and won a maiden 
Whose blue eyes, like 3'our own, 
Held within their liquid depths. 
Love's nectarine full blown, 
And as I press your luscious lips 
I praise thee, brave McCray, 
Whose dauntless courage gave to 
The girl I hold today! 



161 



}62 PRISON POETRY. 

Oh, yes; forg-ive me, darling-, 

I did almost forget; 

But how can mortal silence keep 

B\' such sweet eyes beset? 

Grant me the boon of one more kis 

And g-aze into my face; 

Ifig-ht fancy bj- j'our radiant eyes, 

Tululah's fate to trace! 



Still let the pressure of your hand 
Chain me in rapture to the earth. 
For I must offer thoughts tonight 
That ne'er before had birth! 
No idle dreamer dares to pierce 
The mysterj- of this stream. 
Nor would 1 dare the bold emprtsf 
Save that vour wish I deem 



The hig-hest law my loving heart 

Can now or ever know. 

And 'neath the witchery of your smile 

My raptured numbers g-lowl 

My fanc.v soars on eager wing. 

And will, perhaps, at last, 

filadly at 3-our hig-h behest 

Unfold the misty past! 



Tulnlah slept till evening shades 
Had deepened into night, 
And woke, alas! to find herself 
Bereft of her brave knight. 
Her Indian wit soon taught her 
Oguchu was to blame. 
And hastily she found him. 
Her ej-es and cheeks aflame ! 



"• Oguchu knows your mission ; 
Your paleface lover fled 
While Tululah's starlit eyes 
Were wandering 'mid the dead. 



PRISON POETRY. 163 



He is not worthy of your love; 
Let my sister choose a mate; 
Ojruchu's lodg'e is open. 
Will my sister spurn her fate?' 



*' My paleface lover is a brave! " 

Tululah proudly cried; 

" Hf never fled from friend or foe, 

Oguchu, thou hast lied I 

Thy double tongue is poison-tipped. 

Thy words a coward's dart, 

Before I clasp thy loathsome form 

Let panthers rend my heart! 



•' Sjjeak, coward, speak! where is my brave'. 

Tululah asks you where; 

Speak, lest I summon by a word 

The friends of earth and air 

To tear your quivering' limbs apart, 

You lyingr, treacherous chief. 

Speak the truth! you Indian dog-. 

The nig-ht is g-rowing- brief! " 



The awestruck chief is conquered, 
And tells, with bated breath, 
Where last he saw him drifting-. 
Into the jaws of death! 
Tululah heard, and wild despair 
Hurled reason from her throne. 
Low at her feet the wretches crouched, 
Their treachery to atone ! 



"Up! Up, j-ou cowards I Up, .vou knaves! 

And lead me to the place. 

Tululah 's hand shall save him vet 

Or curse your coward race! 

'T is mine to speak; yours, to obey; — 

I am your Virgin Queen: — 

I swear to save my lover 

Or nevetinore be seen ! " 



1 64 



PRISON POETRY. 

They led her to the river, 

And, pointing" to the place, 

They stood like criminals abashed 

Before the judge's face. 

She spurned their pleading counsel. 

And, springing- in a boat. 

She cast the oars from her 

And set the skiff afloat 1 



Then, as she gazed adown the stream. 
Her e3-es were all aglow 
With that deep yearning passion 
Such hearts alone can know. 
While sitting in the boat erect. 
With an Indian's willowy grace. 
She sang in tuneful numbers 
A song time can't efface: 



•' I am coming, coming, coming, 
Slowlj' drifting down tlie stream. 

While my heart is j-earning, j-earning 
For the idol of love's dream. 

" I have left them — left them — left them! 

Farewell, treacherous Indian race; 
I can hear him calling, calling, 

And I go to seek his face. 

"Now I 'm gliding, gliding, gliding! 

And I hear the awful roar 
Of the waters tumbling, tumbling, 

Wliere no boat will need an oar I 

'• Now I 'm rushing, rushing-, rushingi 
And the spray obscures my sight: 

The angry waters leaping, leaping. 
Chill me with a strange affright. 

" Oh, I see him! see him — see him, 
.\nd I welcome death's alarms! 

oil! I'm swiftly falling, falling. 
And I spring into his arms!" 



PRISON POETKY. 165 

Xot a trace of boat or maiden 
Could the savag-e searchers find, 
And they fled the spot in terror, 
Paringr not to look behind I 
Nor would they tarry near the river. 
But moved their wigwam's far awaj'; 
No sarag-e Creek would linger 
Near the spot by tiiplit and day. 



And tradition saj's her spirit 
May be seen on nights like this. 
When the heavj- moon, mist-laden, 
Greets the river with a kiss! 
Not in vain will be our vig-il 
II Tululah knows tonight 
In your precious veins is flowing 
Genuine blood of her brave knig'ht! 



Look! Look! "mid the river's silvery sheen 

Tululah's Phantom Boat is seen. 

While the air vibrates like a quivering lyre. 

Touched by the hands of an angel Choir! 

Oh. wondrous music soft and low, 

Like rippling streamlets' gentle flow! 

Oh, pathos laden, heart refrain. 

No mortal lips can breathe that strain! 



Immortal love ! not even death 

Can damp thy flame or chill thy breath! 

Nay, while eternal ages roll, 

'T is thine to feed the hungry soul 

With manna dipped in passion's fire. 

True birthright of the heart's desire: 

Blest food no mortal lips can take 

And fail enrapturing bliss to wake! 



Heaven's corner-stone, earth's chief delight. 

Tululah's captive soul tonight 

Is but living o'er the dream 

Thou didst create beside this stream. 



i66 



PRISON POETRY, 



Her hapless fate all must deplore, 

Self-sacrificed in daj's of j-ore; 

And, could Tululah live ag'ain, 

At least one heart would soothe her pain I 



The leg-end may be overdrawn, 
Yet 't is not all a dream ! 
Nor will you ever sa3' again: 
" This is no haunted stream I " 
Other eyes beside our own 
Have seen the Phantom Boat, 
And other ears than ours have heard 
That wild, wierd music floati 



But, precious little darling-, 
As I strain thee to my breast, 
I am concious you are weary. 
Thus deprived of needful rest. 
Let us hasten to thy cottage. 
Parting with a lingering kiss; 
Little Daisy, then, can slumber 
And awake in perfect bliss I 




PRISON POETRY. 



[67 



AN INITIAL ACROSTIC. 



^lear, O heai^ the iiieltiuyr music pouriiifr from inspired liearlsl 
^.n the race of life the.v stumbled, victims of lemptation's darts, 
^^uin's billows them eng-ulfiiig-, all their hopes and joys to blig-ht: 
^nd the scorpion lash of conscience scourjre.s them by da_v and 

nigrht I 
J.Ian has doomed them to a prison where shame's torrents hourly 

roll 

j'(iurin>r every known affliction on the crushed and bleedinjr soul! 
Jjvery letral rifrht has perished, every social tie is snapped I 
Lrushing- Force is ever present, body mind and soul entrapped! 
Jyindness is a total stransrer. human treatment rarely shown, 

J.ian is faultless when his fellow for a fault must needs atone! 
iian such beinjjrs know the rapture Heaven decrees to poet souls'/ 

Jvnow they where to place the cymbals of the soundinif lyre 
J) ever yet has human malice stilled the music of the spheres! 
J.n //tr /iH!///r.u»iit' fii /son dnngeo>i Heaven the swi-rtrst music lirars .' 
Jjuilt or shame, or human ang'er, ne'er can fold the poefs winsrs. 
^ow.soever deep his anguish, still his heart e.xultant sing's — 
•y^unes his lyre, srill triumphant, and to you these pages brings! 



l6S PRISON POETRY. 

ACROSTIC TRIBUTE TO 
DR. H. R. PARKER. 



BY GEO. W. H. HARRISON. 



fie towers above his fellow men, like some frraiid knig'ht of old. 
^tideaTorin^'- to rig-ht all wrong- with spirit Vjold and free! 
^o craven fear usurps bis soul, no task his spirit quails. 
J^eligfion to his soul is /ove, and love no wrong- entails I 
'Jf e who love eternal rig-lit and wish your fellows well 

^^efuse him not the meed of praise — 't is his our aches to quell! 
'>Each heart within these prison walls that tests his wondrous skill 
^nites to sing- his praises and bless his g-enerous will, 
^iv kindly words he cheers the soul of those whom dread disease 
•jijnvelops in her mystic folds and gives each patient ease. 
^)l aught caring- for their praise or blame, he steers his course 
aright, 

^j'roving dut3-, well performed, is matchless in its might, 
^nd, tho' but a youth in years, his well instructed mind 
Jyeveals all pathologic truth and practice well combined, 
^vindlj- may the fates decree that he may rise to fame, 
"^ver free, as he is now, from error and from shame. 
!f\efuse him naught of happiness and bless his honored name! 



^■.. 



PRISON POETRY. 

LINES TO My Wife. 



169 



BY GEO. W. H. HAKKISON. 



Years and years have passed away 
Since last we met, my darlirifr wife: 

Oft have I felt the tooth of pain 
Gnaw at the vitals of mv life. 



The brow thy hand has oft caressed 
With such sweet, hvpnotic power. 

The lines of care and g-rief has traced 
And wrinkled, like a withered flower. 



The dark brown locks you loved so well. 

Now interspersed with silver thread. 
Shows plainl3- that the march of time 

Has left its footprints on my head. 



The deep g-raj- ej-es that once could flash 
With passion's fire, or melt in love. 

Have lost the wanted fires of youth, 
Like some poor offcast, Hnips.v g-love. 

Y'et in my breast there beats a heart 
That never will nor can g-row old: 

Thy image keeps its pul.ses warm 
With love that never shall g-row cold. 

Thy grrace and beauty won that heart 
Lonsr vears ag-o, when thou wert vouny: 

Thy g-eutle, generous, faithful care 
Has bred a love I cannot tontrue. 



Heaven can grant no sweeter bliss. 

To crown the evening of my life. 
Than lulu's sweet, enraptured kiss. 

When time restores me to mv wife. 



IJO 



PRISON POETRY. 
OUT OF THE DEPTHS. 



BY GEO. W. H. HARRISON. 



Ill a cell of rock and iron, 
Where remorse and shame environ, 
Sat a convict sadlj- dreaming' — 
Dreaming- of the days of yore. 
Dreamed he of a land of flowers 
Where, amid Love's smiling bowers. 
He had spent such happy hours, 
To memory ne'er so sweet before. 
And he softly, fondly questioned: 

•' Shall I know such bliss once more?" 

Hope made answer, " Vex, once more!" 
In a home which love had founded. 
Now by grief and care surrounded. 
Sat a wife and mother, weeping. 

Weeping for her prisoned swain. 
Wept she o'er fate's mad endeavor. 
That such loving hearts could sever. 
With a blow, that seemed to never 
Lose its agonizing pain; 
And her cry arose to heaven: 

" Father, shall we meet again ? " 

Mercy answered, "Once again." 
Ope those doors of latticed iron. 
Lift the clouds that now environ; 
Faithfulness shall be rewarded — 

Love the victory hath won. 
Learn that I, your God, am heeding 
Prayers that rise from hearts now bleeding. 
And my hand is ever leading, 

Tho' the clouds obscure the sun. 
Bows my heart in adoration — 

Shall my lips repeat Amen? 

Hope and faith repeat! "Amen." 



><br 



PRISON POETRY 



Ella ree's Revenge. 



171 



Beside Saluda's silver stream. 
Where flowers nod and poets dream. 
A cabin stood, ixi days g'one bv, 
'Whose liistorv should never die. 



Hei-e lived and led a blameless life. 
Brave Hay ward and his peerless wife, 
With three sweet pledg'es of that love. 
Cradled on earth, but born above. 



Surrounding- them, on everj- hand. 
Was the Red man'.s native land. 
No paleface, save themselves, ever dared 
To live in wild these Indians shared. 



Treacherous alike in peace and war. 
The Seminole obeyed no law 
Save one he spake with bated breath: 
" Traitors shall die a coward's death I' 



The haug-hty chief who led this tribe. 
Fear cf)uld not daunt nor favor bribe; 
And this lone settler, living- here. 
Knew white man never dared come near. 



He Caucanoe's heart had won 

By a kindness nobly done. 

In rescuing- from a watery g-rave 

The favorite child of this fierce bravt 



A frail canoe — swamped in mid stream: 
A father's cry — a maiden's scream: 
A hunter bearing- a maid ashore, 
A volume writ would tell no more. 



172 



PRISON POETRY. 

"The land beside this murmuring- stream 
Thy future home, brave paleface, deem. 
And on Caucanoe's word depend, 
No Indian dares molest my friend I "' 



" Yours 't was to save Caucanoe's pride, 
Mine be it to protect your bride; 
If here a future you would seek, 
I listen: Let my brother speak."' 



" Great Chief I your words, so kind and true. 

Fall on my ears like evening- dew; 

Ere the buds begin to swell 

Your brother 'mid 3'our tribe shall dwell." 



So Hayward built, with eager haste. 
As best befits a woman's taste, 
A cabin palace, reared by art, 
Each room as secret as your heart. 



Here they lived and tilled the ground, 
The happiest pair for miles around; 
The Indians swarmed around their door 
With useful gifts to swell their store. 



Caucanoe often sought their door 
And played with the children, o'er and o'er. 
He brought them many a curious toy. 
Their happy childhood to employ. 



The winsome sprite, who sat on his knee. 
Pleased him most of the guileless three; 
Her limped eyes and golden hair 
Caucanoe thought divinely fair. 



As the happy years flew swiftly by. 
Beneath Caucanoe's watchful eye. 



PRISON POETRY. 

Paralee frrew, with rapid pace, 
Into a maid of faultless grace. 



Caucanoe loved this lovelj- child 
With a passion fierce, and deep, and wild. 
Yet hopeless, he feared, that love would be. 
Since naug-ht could bridg-e the raging- sea 



Of racial and tribal pride. 
That lay between them, deep and wide; 
And well he knew another's soul 
Brooked naught on earth save his control. 



King Ulca's daughter, the proud Ella Ree, 
Graceful and lithe as a willow tree. 
With e3-es and hair like the raven's wing. 
And voice as soft as the babbling spring. 



Had sought him for her wigwam brave. 
Weeping o'er his late wife's grave; 
And well he knew the tears she shed. 
By tribal law their bodies wed. 



True love for her he could not feel, 
Yet such a fact dared not reveal; 
His squaw she was alone in name 
And never to his wigwam came. 



Another love, oh, fateful thought! 
With direful misery doubly fraught. 
Surged and tossed within his soul 
Until it spurned his late control. 



At last he sought her much loved side 
And begged her to become his bride. 
The maiden heard and laughed outright. 
And thus let loose the fiends of night 



173 



174 PRISON POETRY. 

That of late had lain at rest 
Within Caucanoe's savag'e breast. 
Now, naug-ht could sta_v this risiny ire 
Save to lisrht the Council Fire. 



At last among his braves he stood, 

L,ike some monarch of the wood; 

While burning words flowed from liis tongue. 

That showed how deep his heart was wrung. 



The Council heard and thus decreed: 
"Our land froiw paleface dogs be freed. 
Tomorrow night the proud paleface 
Shall rue Caucanoe's late disgrace ! " 



" 'T is well," the haught3' chief replied; 
" Who scorns to be Caucanoe's bride 
Shall feel a living flame of fire 
Quench the last spark of life's desire! " 



But, ere the morrow's sun had set. 
Awakening love brought deep regret. 
Lrove fought the savage till he fell, 
And Pity's tears began to well. 



He crept the cabin light within. 
And there confessed his double sin. 
'"T is done," he cried, "you shall not die; 
The boat is ready; up, and fly ! 



"Saluda's stream shall guide jou right, 
Caucanoe lays to die tonight I 
Once you are free, I die content. 
Nor deem the blow untimely sent." 



The boat has left the silent shore. 
And Hayward tugs at the niuifled oar: 



PRISON POETRY. 

The craft sweeps on, like a thing of life, 
Impelled bj- the praj-ers of a weeping wife. 



Caucanoe stood on the bank hard by. 
With heaving breast and tear-dimmed eye. 
That proved a hero's soul could rest 
In the natural dome of a savage breast. 



The Hashing oars in the moonlight pale 
Give forth no sound and leave no trail; 
Naught is heard save the breath 
Of the fleeing ones in their race with death. 



Hark! What means that frightful yell 'i 
'T is a cry of triumph, born of hell; 
Their savage foe, long under way. 
At last have seen their wanted prey. 



They see the foe and wildly fly 

The flashing oars, till the)- almost fly; 

" We '11 yet be saved," brave Hayward spoke. 

But his oars shivered beneath his stroke. 



He sprang to his feet, with ashen face. 

And his trusty rifle flew to its place; 

A maddening yell from the savage crew 

Proved the ball to the mark had straightway flew. 



Six times his trusty rifle spoke; 
Each time an Indian skull it broke. 
His gallant sons stood near their sire 
And reinforced his deadly fire! 



Their doom was sealed. The savage horde 
Soon reached their bark and sprang aboard 
Yet scorned they even then to j'ield. 
While strength was left a knife to wield. 



175 



176 PRISON POETRY. 

Each one dared a hero's part; 
Each knife it soug-ht a savag-e heart, 
Nor did they cease to bathe in g-ore 
Till the}- sank beneath to rise no more. 



Paralee and her mother lay 
To savag-e hands an early prey; 
For neither knew, nor felt they ought. 
Of what they did or what thej- sought, 



Since terror and alarm, too deep. 
Had locked their senses all in sleet). 
Alas! that they should ever wake: 
Returning- senses meant the stake. 



Soon homeward with the living dead 
The savag-e horde in triumph sped; 
And bore to haunts of Ella Ree 
The paleface foe she longed to see. 



Better for Paralee had she died 
Amid the battle's raging tide. 
" Not wounded tigress in her lair 
More dangerous than a jealous fair I ' 



Assembled around the Council Fire, 
With haug-hty mien and rising- ire. 
Each chief was ready to relate 
His own exploit or vent his hate. 



Safely bound by cruel thong-, 
In the center of the throng. 
The captives sat in silent dread. 
Envying none except the dead. 



■'Brothers! the paleface Ella Ree, 
Whose words from guile are always free. 



PRISON- I'OKTKY 



Will Ifll you all you nerd to Kmo\\ 
Wlio sconis Ih'i woitls must hravi 



Thus Ulca spake, then fflared around 
With a niifrhty monarch's haug-hty frown, 
*' That held his hearers more in awe 
Of his dread prowess than his law." 



'•Chief'. Warriors'. Braves in battle tried. 
Your blood Saluda's stream has dyed: 
Your brothers sleep no more to wake! 
Will you sit by nor vensreance take?" 



"A traitor warned the doomed palefaci 
Shall he yet live to brave our race? 
How the white lily wroug'ht the spell, 
Caucanoe, and not I, must tell! " 



'■ Caucanoe does not fear to die! 
'T was he that bade the xjaleface fly; 
Let these women now be set free; 
Vent vour hate alone on me." 



" Paralee I loved, and her alone; 
Mine was the fault — let me atone, 
t^lla Ree, herself, shall ligrht the fire 
And chant around my funeral pyre." 



-■ Loose the captive! Raise the stake! 
It shall be thus," brave Ulca spake. 
" If love shall brave the cruel flame. 
Yon captives ffo from whence they came. 



In haste they reared the ready stake. 
And bade the Chief his place to take. 
Hi- liyhtly stepped in proper place, 
.\ congueriny smile upon his face. 



177 



ITS 



PRISON POETRY. 



Tlic siiifiial {^riven— a lifrlited brand — 
Ella Ree raised with trembliufr hand. 
Yet beg-fi-ed Caucanoe not to die. 
But to her willine arms to flv. 



Pardon was his, both full and free. 
As the proud brave of Ella Ree; 
The hated captives should atone 
For all blood spilt, and they alone I 



Caucanoe frowned and thus replied: 
'• If Ella Ree would be my bride. 
Let her lig'ht the fire and stand 
Here beside nie, hand in liand." 



Forward she sprany — the torch applied. 
Even in death a happy bride I 
Saluda's stream is never free 
From the dying chant of Ella Ree! 




PRISON POETRY. 179 

The MURDERER'S Dream. 



Ye frlitteriitg' stars! how fair ye shine tonifrhl. 

And, oh, thou modest moon! thy silvery lisrht 

Comes streaming' throug'h these iron bars tiefove me. 

How clear and silent is this lovely nijrht ! 

How quiet and how brifirht! 

I nothing' hear, nor aught can hear 

Me when I speak, but stone and iron that I fear: 

I. shunned b.v all, as if alone I "d go to Hell: 

1. alone in chains! Ah, me, the cruel spell 

That brought me here. Heaven could not cheer me 

Within these cursed walls — within this dark and dreary cell. 

This gloomy, cold, and solitary Hell. 



And Ihou. O Time! the only thing that's not my foe — 
O Time! O Time! thou passeth on so slow. 
Keeping my soul in terror, in bondage, and in woe; 
Was I to blame ? I -was, they saj-; they say 't is so. 
Oh, (lod! will this deep crimson, aye, black stain 
My nervous system always strain! 
Will my foul crime forever haunt my brain ? 
Must I live here in earthly fear, and never, never lu^.-ir 
The sweetest voice to me of all, I 've heard not for a year '.' 
Must I this torture feel, year after year? 
Live, die in Hell, and yet a Paradise so near V 

Wilt Thou, Oh, God! wilt Thou not hear? "T is I. 't is 1 they all 
do fear. 



Am I to Thee, O Chri.st, as dead ? Thou who sought 
The lonely prisoner in his dismal cell, and to him taught 
The true and only law to govern man — Thy love. 
Which can be only reached b3- prayer to Thee above ? 
In this cold and darkened cell, dost Thou reprove 
My soul? Dost Thou doom it to endless misery ? 
Am I so wicked, sinful, that I cannot move 
Thy loving kindness, to a slight reprove? 
Ah, me, ah, me, 't is love Thou sayest^love. 
Canst I at this late day by full repentence see 
The divine, the holy, ever cleansing love in Thee? 
Canst Thou be Christ and havi- n<> love for me ? 



iSo PRISON POETRY. 

What, can it be that I am lost and '11 never know thy bliss? 

Antl for my cruel, wicked crime no joy above all this? 

What, world of sin I What, never? Is my destiny Hell? 

Is that my cruel sentence because in sin I fell? 

Aye, I did fall! Into that dark and fathomless pit. 

And now in Hell my soul has fell, and for Hell it is not tit: 

Into that misery eternal, where nothinia^ lives but all "s irifernal- 

Is there my future — is it there? 

My thoufchts they burn my head, ni3- heart 't was, ah, "t was dead- 

But now it lives, and in mj' breast does burn: 

Those pains, and, severe as they were, they flew, j-es, flew away 

And bein<r absent for awhile, remorse came in bv dav. 



Oh. (iod. Oh, (;od, I am not fit for this infernal Hell! 

Oh, mercy, mercy I my destiny, 't is here that I must dwell. 

Away I away ! ye fiery fiends, I am amongr you now, 

Christ, O Savior of the sinner! To Satan must I bow? 
Pray, take me back to earth apain, and test me one and all. 
And let me live anew my life and see if I will fall. 

Test me, test me once ag'ain, let me hear the old church bell, 
"Cause now I 'm so much steeped in sin that I 'm not fit for Hell. 
Oh, horrors! horrors! hear the groans of tortured victims there. 
Some young', and many are quite old, I know it bj- their hair! 
Poor, poor, poor wretches, see them there, all bleedintr and in 
chains; 

1 know they realize their fate, because they all have brains. 



Is this the horrid, horrid place my mother taught was Hell? 
Oh. see those brutal fiery fiends, the3- call them " Imps "you Know, 
And many an one has feared them here, because of sin he'd sowrf. 
Just see the demons of the deep! Just hear their hellish tones! 
Then floating back on brimstone air comes mocking, mocking 

groans. 
See, see the devils how they dance, with brimstone torches how 

they prance; 
What! can it be they look like men and "stead of hearts tliey hav<' 

but sin 
And grinning hang around me? C)h, fearful, fearful fire of licll. 

what can it be within ? 
They sneer and stare at me! Cro "way. ye devils cooked in sin 

and crime! 



PRISON POETKV. I, Si 

I "m now in Purgratory waiting' for the time 

When by the law of a just God I "11 be removed from here, 

And bv the law of Christ divine, of thee I "11 have no fear. 



Hark! List I From yonder corner comes loud cries, 

(th, let me hold my achinfr. bursting headl 

They come from some poor wretch tliat dies. 

And many an one may mourn him now as dead. 

I see him I I see him! There he is! My murdered victim now 

Appears before me. That is him! and to him I must bow. 

Oh, his cries, his groans, they haunt me 

To the bottom of my wicked heart. Can it be 

That I must dwell forever in this wretched misery? 

Horrors! See him now reach out his bony hand 

To frrasp me firmly by the throat and hold me like a band. 

Take me, demons, if you please, take me into Hell! 

.Anything jou choose niaj' do — remove me from this cell! 



My soul, nij- soul, awake! awake! They come! they come! 

The devil's come to take — Old Satan, I am thine! 

Away my soul will ever roll throug"li torturing, scorching- Hell, 

And down into the blackest depths my soul is cast pell-mell. 

Oh, what a fate for man to meet — speak, Satan ! speak, I saj' ! 

And with your torturing, devilish deeds — my ruin! no dela3- ! 

What dumb! Old Satan, canst thou speak? Look here 

And speak thy want! I 'm now right crisp and hard in sin and 

haven't any fear. 
Take me, demons! Take me, quick! I hear the awful knell 
Of the roaring, moaning billows, and the bitterness of Hell. 
Take me, Satan, take me! as my fate is firml3- sealed. 
While ye in Hades do wake me, and o'er me the batoon wield. 



What! What! Am I mistaken? Was it onlj- but a dream ? 
I, still living here on earth — oh, how real it all did seem. 
Could I now just one chance have and in mercy be forgiven, 
I would have respect for all and send prayers right up to heaven. 
When on earth Christ did come to save sinners from their fate. 
Any time thev 'd turn to Him they "d find "t was not too late. 
Holy Savior, heavenly dove. Thou who reigns supreme above! 
Though in sin I have been dead, I aiti saved just by Thy love. 



l82 



PRISON POETRY. 



Could I only have g-ood sig-ht, that I could see mj- sad plight, 
I would always to Thee cling-, and to Thee cling with my might. 
Now, to Thee let me give thanks, "cause 't was only a bad dream. 
But its horrors to me cling, 'cause so real it all did seem. 




PRISON POETRY. l8^ 

ACROSTIC TRIBUTE TO 

GOD'S MESSENGERS. 
CHAPLAIN AND MRS. C. L. WINGET. 



i^\ piiaii, the father of the orators' plan, a preacher, a priest aiiil 

trodly man; 
J( ou have been, by the jirooci Lord sent, on the mission your heart 

is ever bent. 
J^assed throup'h trials of life severe, God was g-ood when He sent 

you here, 
jfifrht in the midst of a sweltering' gang of sinners, corrupt on 

every hand. 
J. , for one, have watched you keen, and from you haven't an evil 

deed seen; 
^11 has been so easy to see that your whole soul 's bent on settiny- 

us free — 
J^ot from earthly, bodily pains, but from our evil, and sin, and 

shame I 



^ee was the second choice of name, she christened her son for 

Heavenly fame, 
iiach and every day she tauiarht him ever sin to brave, till dear 

mother she went down into an early f^rave. 
Xvery day and every hour he tries to keep that aug'ust dower. 

and meet her where there 's endless time, in Heaven's pure 

and holv clime. 



>y ins^et came unto this place to save poor sinners by (iod's own 

g'race; 
in eloquence and heartfelt plea he 's pra3ed for us on bended 

knee; 
J) or has his pleading- been in vain, because from us he 's driven 

pain. 
" ijod help the prisoner! " is his prayer, while lingering- in tliis 

prison lair; 
'■ ^ternal justice may they have while life's hard strufrg-le they 

do brave ! " 
" ^^o God be praise I we see His face. God save the prisoniT by 

Th}- grace I " 



184 PRISON POETRY. 

i^usail, his wife and better half, and one of God's own kind, 
ytipon each bright and sabbath morn she helps the text to find. 

jjhe 's ever there, in the arm chair, throuiafh service and throuy'h 

songr, 
^^nd with kindlj- smile she does beg'uile the prisoners from all 

wrong. 
Ji Ay — let us bow unto you now, thou noble, holy one, and may 

God speed for all your need for the jrood that j-ou have 

done. 

i^reisrory is an ancient name, to you it has been g'iven: 

|i'{ig'ht down deep in 3our friendly heart is found the truth of 

Heaven 
ijach of us prisoners here confined for truth will e'er contend; 

ijo, search each heart! and then report if truth we '11 not defend, 

rinward, onward, upward, upward may your labors ever roll; 

!i>each out for poor fallen sinner, and your work we '11 all extol: 

1 et 't is not too late to labor— God will answer, "Aye, extol '. " 



;i'air-child " of Heaven's aufrust plan, how contest thou to wed 
j'ourself to Man? 

fh. name is nothing: but to desig-nate, but. Oh — how often it does 
consecrate 

X" lang-uaofe pure and clear as diamond scale, while thou. Fair- 
child, we, everj- one, do hail I 

if^eal S3'mpathy is not so strong- a band as binds fair woman unto 
haughtj' man I 

ijome, hasten! now thy work be done. 'cause life's short race i>- 
almost run ! 

■jd'^ whom thou wed so many years aaro has been (iod's servant 
faithfully to do 

X" words so full of just and holy writ, that in our chapel we do 
love to sit, 

^ove for your duty, kind to all you meet, faithful to your Mas- 
ter's cause and a smile for all you f^reet. 

lio by us as you have done and never do complain, because the 
work that you have done has not been done in vain I 



W ing'et " is the name you chow^ to support the once Fair-cliik 



PRISON POETRY. iS^ 

Jii clirisliaii mission yo forth (iod's castles for to build: 
JU'ver foisret the prisoner close locked in dunffcon cell. 
Lio foitli am) t.-ach to him Tlie Life of the soul vou 1i>vf so well. 
^iHch lioiir \()ii spend in christian work is never thrown away, 
li he Truth is known I you'll harvests reap in Heaven's yolden 
davl 



THE Mind is the Standard of the man. 



In chains and shackle.s closel.\ bound: 

They say I am a pri.soner; 
Although in this small cell I "ni found, 

A prisoner I am not. 
The door is made of iron bars. 

The lock is large and stronpr. 
But my mind soars free, up to the stars, 

As if I 'd done no wrong. 
The mind of man is ever free, 

By nature's law itself, 
"While this wicked, wretched corpus 

May be laid upon the shelf. 
What of this wretched body? 

What care we for this hand V 
But there 's one thing safe to wager on. 
"Tii.^T mind's the st.\.n"dakd of thk M.^.x." 



TIu'V may chain me fast unto tlie rock. 

And bind both hands and feet; 
They may keep me far off in the dark. 

Where friends I cannot meet; 
They may call me vile and wicked wretch. 

And murderer and thief; 
They may say I am an infidel 

And steeped in unbelief; 
They may say I 'm false and awful bad. 

And lend not a helping hand: 
They may sow the .seed North, East, Snuth. West, 

Far, far throughout the land; 
They may go right on with falsity 



,,% PRISON POETRY. 

Ami it publish like a ban. 
Hut there "s one thing- safe to \va<rer on, 
"That mind's the standard oi- riiic Man." 



If tlie mind was easy to be read, 

.\nd another for to see, 
There would prisoner after prisoner 

Immediately be set free. 
If conscience was as easy known 

As another's words to hear. 
There would not be half so many men 

That societj- would fear. 
T.ut what do people think or care 

What "s in another's brain, 
So long- as they can all conceal 

The evil in their frame. 
There are a few who secretly 

Do not conceal their sham. 
But there 's one thing safe to wager on. 
"That mind's the standard ok rni: Man. 



If everj' one was now compelled 

To show life in line attire. 
They "d cause the picture to be marred 

And cast into the fire. 
They 'd blush with shame to bring to light 

Bla'ck spots upon their life; 
They kick, and squirm, and twist about. 

And fight it with a strife. 
Where is the man on this vile e.Trth 

But what has done some wrong. 
And in his mind "s concealed it, 

Tho' it stings him like a thong-? 
There ne'er was one except the Christ 

Who 'd be perfect in the land! 
But there's one thing safe to wager on, 
"That mind's the standard oi-- xwv. Man. 



What if all conscience could be searched 
Clear through with cathode rays. 

How nianv wor.UI chcorfullv submit. 



PRISON POETRY. |,Sy 

Wlio M reached tlieir manhood da.\ s'.- 
[t mijjrlii not be the blackest crinu- 

Known lo the criminal code. 
But can it be sufficiently white 

To call it very g-ood 7 
It may not be so jrood nor bad. 

Nor bad nor g-ood indeed. 
But is it plenty g-ood enough 

As a standard for a creed ? 
You may keep it hid in an air-tight box. 

With psycholog-ical band, 
Then, you see, 'tis safe to wager 

•'That mind '.s the Standard m- riii. Man," 



So long- as minds cannot be seen 

And pictured to the folk. 
So long- there '11 bo deceitfulncss 

Played by the earthly crook. 
The modern shy lock now, who craves 

The sentence of the court, 
Is just the man who, many times. 

Society he has hurt. 
He stands aloof from other folk. 

And cries with a loud voice: 
'■ Down, down, with evil and all crime 

Arise, mj- friends, rejoice!'" 
But turn on him the cathode rays 

And search him, if you can. 
You "11 be convinced, be3ond a doubt, 

"TlIAr MIND 'S THE .STANDAKD <)1- 



Tliere 's many a man who 's been misjudgvsl. 

And met his doom and fate; 
And the truth thereof could ne'er V>e learned 

Until it was too late. 
If cathode rays could have been used. 

And falsehood put to flight. 
There "s many a false and trunijjed uj) cliarg-e 

Would be knocked clear out of sig-hl. 
If the mind of man could only be. 

With this mysterious lig-ht. 
Just brought out plain on canvas. 



kSS prison poetry. 

In colors clear and brijilit. 
It would spread the truth both far and near. 

Just like a niarriasre ban. 
That the rule ordained by nature is 
•'That mind's the standakd of thk Man. 



Now, when with cathode ravs supplied. 

You start out for a search. 
Just drop around some Sabbath morn 

And peep into a church. 
If one bald deacon, on his breast. 

Wears a diamond brigrht and clear. 
Just shoot cathode across his pate 

And see what "s buried there. 
Then up into the pulpit, 

Where the priest all devils dare. 
And dart the rays around, about. 

And see what "s buried there. 
Then to the courtroom wend your way. 

To where the judfjes ran. 
Then bet your bottom dollar 

"That ^mind 's the standakd of thk ;\Ian.' 



Then down into our Contriess lialls 

Make a dash both bold and free. 
And shoot cathode rig-ht throug-h tlieni all 

And see what you can see. 
Then back into the halls of State, 

And catch them, one and all. 
And learn yourself, beyond a doubt. 

How many are there to fall. 
Don't be surprised if now you lind 

Most foul and blackened crimes. 
Because they "re plottiufr for the gold. 

No matter what the times. 
Try and discover, then and there, 

The g'old bonds, if you can. 
And remember, what is true as truth, 
"That mind's the standakd ok thi: Ma.n." 

Then, when you "re done witli the outside world. 
.\Md all of Conjjress halls. 



PRISON POETRY. 

Return lo ine aad take a walk 

Within these dismal walls. 
I "11 show you men who repre.sent 

Each county in this State; 
They 're all accused of crime, you know. 

And sentenced to their fate. 
But don't be hasty now to judg'e 

These men you see about; 
Fire cathode rays riyht throusrli their skulls 

And j'ou may find a doubt. 
Courts, lawyers and prejudiced jurois 

Will con-vict if they can, 
I$ut there "s one thing safe to wa^rer on, 
"That mini) "s the st.^ndard oi' the ISIan." 



In here you '11 find there 's many a iiiiiid 

As free from sin and crime 
As congressmen and senators 

Who 've been there a long- time. 
Some of these men in here, you see. 

They got a little tight. 
And broke into a chicken coop. 

Because 't was in the night. 
Some men you see as you walk with me 

Down through these halls so dreary. 
Have, on bended knee, prayed lo be free 

Until life "s become weary. 
Tliey have no money, neither friends. 

Because the.v 're far behind the van. 
But still 't is safe to wager 
"That mind's the st.^ndakd of run Man. 



And now because my enemies 

Have chained me tight and fast. 
And cruel, heartless, brutal curs 

Would hold me to the last — 
Look here! I '11 freely now submit, 

Turn on your cathode rays 
And learn, if now 't is not too late. 

The evil of my ways. 
Then go up to that old bribed judge. 



I.S9 



190 



PRISON POETRY 



And prosecutor, too, 
And brinsj' their conscience here b.\ tnini" 

And search all through and tliroujrh. 
Look sharp! And now compare iheir niiiul-; 

With this one, if you can. 
And then apply the golden rule. 
"That mind 's the staxdakd m 1111-. Man. 



Oh, men of science! if you can 

Employ the cathode rays 
To take the place of jurymen 

In these our latter da3's; 
Let not a man upon the bench 

To judf^e another's fate, 
Until to cathode he "s been sent 

To search beneatli his patel 
If then 30U see his mind is free 

From prejudice and crime, 
And he '11 g'ive us all fair justice. 

Let him sit there all the time! 
But if, upon the other hand. 

He won't, altlioug^h he can, 
Then cut him out with the g-olden rule: 

"That mind 's the standard oi' rui. Man. 



How can 3'ou, then, a prisoner make. 

When his Mind 's as free as space ? 
You may chain his feet, and hands, and lu 

And tifrhtlj- bind his face. 
Do what you please, and as j^ou please. 

You cannot help but see — 
That man is man, where e'er he be. 

Because his mind is free! 
His mind may roam back to his home. 

You cannot tie it do%vn, 
Andiolk may look, and scoff, and scowl. 

And always wear a frown. 
But when of him they a prisoner make. 

The mind they never can, 
'Cause (iod ordained the Golden Rule. 
"THAr mind's the standard hi- rui; 



PRISON POICTKV. 191 

CELL THOUGHTS. 



KG. \V. n. HAKKISt)N. 



Ill llio licadloiitr rush for the Land of Fame 

How many are wrecked on the Isle of Shame. 

How few heads wear a g-littering' crown 

In the far-away realm of g-reat renown. 

"Mid the crowded ranks of the leg-ion of greed 

How many are crushed 'neath the wheels of need! 



How few ever feel Uie dainty caress 

Of the lingering hand of great successi 

In the mad pursuit of the god of gold 

What brains are wrecked, what hearts grow cold '. 

How many will spend their latest day 

"Mid Ihe hurtling waters of Poverty Bay I 



How many are lured by a siren chime 
To a double death in the land of Crime! 
How few escape, unscarred, within 
The winding walks of the maze of sin : 
How many that towered above the stars 
Now pine and languish behind the bars! 



What a trail of woe a single mistake 
Across the page of a life can make! 
O, shipwrecked sailor, fix your eye 
On the Star of Hope in yonder sky; 
Mercy's hand will bring release 
And safelv lead to the Land of Peace. 



192 



PRISON POETRY 



THE AUTHORS FAREWELL. 



(rfiitle reader, this small volume clearlj- proves that modern man 
Can control his erring' brothers with a clear enlightened plan. 
Ne'er till now have prison printers voiced, unchanged, a convict's 

tho't! 
Is tlie chang'e with retrogression or with onward progress fraught? 
Will this volume change j-our custom or relieve our horrid pain ? 
Or shall truth be crushed and bleeding, ever bound in prison 

chain ? 
Will you cast your glances backward, gathering age along by age. 
Proof that man is wlioUj- brutal when controlled by maddening 

rage ? 
View tlie pen of downy feathers, where men choked and clioked 

to death, 
Without power to ask for pardon with their last expiring breath ! 
See your brother in that river, safely chained to yonder rock. 
While his thirst is wildlj' raging and the waves liis tortures mock 1 
See yon dungeon, dark and dreary, built by human art and skill. 
Whose dread mission is to madden any one the Icnc says kill I 
Visit to the hapless culprit, as in Pagan jail he lies; 
See the jailer pass the hemlock, wliicli he quaffs, and then he 

dies! 
Think of club, of sword and pistol, of the bloody guillotine: 
Of the whipcord, knout and gallows of the noted Wolverine; 
Of starvation, rack and torture, of the lash and fiery stake, 
And then tell me frankly, reader, did these wrongs one virtue 

wake ? 



Tell me frankly, honest reader, can two wrongs create a right? 
And is man's inhuman conduct pleasing in Jehovah's sight ? 
Or do pitying angels shudder, as the cruel lash you ply, 
Wondering man can be so brutal and the laws of God defy ? 
Does not conscience loudl.v thunder: " Sin is but the fruit of hate 
And who stones a helpless brother most deserves that victim" 

fate? 
Can abuse and brutal treatment purge the sinner of his guilt? 
If so, come, within my bosom sheath your dagger to the hilt! 
Strike, till everv erring mortal at your hands has met his fate. 
Then sit down and calmly ponder on your awful lonely state! 



PRISON POETRY. 



193 



i'oK, poihaps, have bei'ii niuU- /a/i///i'sx : you, perhaps, no wrong 

have done, 
If 't is Irur, my peerless brother, v"" 'rr alone beneath the sun / 



Do but think 1 we once were spotless as the babe on mother's knee I 
Trace the causes of our downfall with a mind from malice free. 
See, on every licensed corner, fiends incarnate hourly sell 
Fiery waters of datnnalion, that create a living hell ! 
Women, once as pure as ang-els, leading heartless lives of shame; 
For the trumpery of fashion dealing- off both home and name! 
Hear men laud the wealthy scoundrel and attempt to clear his 

ways, 
While the poor and honest toiler none with pride or pleasure 

pays! 
See Religion don the garments of all worldly pride and lust, 
While the Savior's honest followers are but trampled in the dust! 
See the press, with startling headlines, everj- vice and sin por- 

traj- 
That can sink your moral standard or lead innocence astray! 
View the legions of temptation strewn along the path of youth. 
See how few do practice virtue, and how few adore the truth ! 
There! the cause of crime is patent, and our downfall 3-ou behold, 
To condemn it in a sentence: " // 7fas -cnnien, wine and gold/" 



If you read this book with caution, you have read bet-iveen the 

tines. 
Learning much the careless reader and the critic ne'er divines! 
You have seen the author's purpose was to tell the simple truth, 
.\s a tribute to the prisoner and a warning to our youth. 
You have seen mistakes and errors that less haste would <|uickly 

mend. 
Yet. with all its imperfections, it may prove a useful friend. 
And in future I may publish one with less of hasty thought 
That may be— God knows the future— with undying issues fraught. 
All tried means have proved abortive j-et, my friend, there is a 

plan 
That 7i.'ill lift each erring brother to the standard of a man ! 
If I can but live to publish what I know and long to tell. 
You will read it and believe it; so, dear re.iLAer,fare-lhe-7i'ett.' 



194 



PRISON POETRY 



CONCLUSION. 



Go, little book, thy destined course pursue I 
Collect memorials of the just and true; 
And beg" of every one who comes thou near 
Some token of their friendship and s'ood cheer. 
And if b}' chance some true friends thou should find, 
Attach them to thee with both soul and mind; 
And if they prove g'ood, faithful friends and true. 
To them thou sticketh. as if they loved you- 

Adieul Adieu I 




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